Redemption Chronicles - Part One - Anavatyar
by AustralianRanger012
Summary: After spending thousands of years in thraldom, Mairon has been shown mercy, and offered a second chance in Valinor. However, as the full extent of the abuse he suffered under the fallen Vala becomes clear, he begins to question if he is beyond redemption. Mairon might have been rescued from the Dark Lord, but can he be rescued from himself? *Mercy-Verse*Sequel to Óravassë*
1. Dinner in Mandos

**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. I own only my OC's and ideas.**

**Before we go on, a huge thanks to CoffeeRanger for helping with everything from writing to editing to talking over ideas! And Freeranger for proofreading for me.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Dinner in Mandos**

Mairon was sketching.

Lying flat on his stomach on the soft carpet of his room, the Maia subconsciously hummed as he designed pieces of intricate jewellery. He was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he'd drawn ideas for smith work this delicate. It was so long, in fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd done it.

Then again, that could have something to do with the holes in his mind and memories. He had enough…traces, of memories to know he had done this at some point in the distant past. It felt vaguely familiar, but nothing more. Mairon supposed it must have happened back when he'd first served Lord Aulë. Eru knew he'd rarely had time to draw jewellery designs when he'd served Morgoth.

As for making anything pretty or delicate…

Mairon sighed wistful, carefully adding the finishing touches to his sketch. Laying down his pencil, the Maia admired the design. It truly was a beautiful brooch. His fingers traced lightly over the air above the design, hovering there. It seemed too perfect to sully with his touch, somehow. Despite the fact _he'd_ drawn it.

It was a shame he would probably never get the chance to make it. Though Mairon wasn't sure he wanted to. Despite his joy at being able to draft designs once more, he still held no desire to work in a forge. The itch in his hands and arms that would drive him crazy until he picked up a hammer and worked at moulding and shaping _something _had yet to reappear. And, even if it did, he very much doubted he'd be _allowed_ anywhere near a forge right now.

A fact Mairon was grateful for.

Almost two solar years (as they measured time by Anar now) had passed since he'd returned to Valinor. Almost two years since he'd received mercy from the Valar instead of condemnation. Almost two years of being loved and encouraged by the Valar whose authority he was currently under.

Mairon wasn't sure how he felt about that last one. To have your entire life change so drastically when you had all but given up hope was disconcerting. He was still struggling to figure it all out.

Of course, this could have something to do with the fact he'd spent most of the last two years sleeping. Trying to make up for literal Ages of broken sleep and horrific nightmares. When he wasn't sleeping, his time was spent in the company of Lord Námo and Lord Irmo, Lady Nienna, or, on the odd occasion, Lady Estë, or Lady Vairë. Under their care, he'd started the long process of healing from the abuse he'd suffered under Morgoth.

They were the only Valar he'd seen since his Trial. He hadn't seen any Maiar either. If he knew Lord Námo (and since the Vala had spent many hours with him, he felt he at least had a semblance of knowledge of him), that was because of deliberate machinations on the Doomsman's part. The Vala wanted him to be stronger before having to interact with others. Especially those who didn't know what had been done to him…

It made sense. Mairon knew his mental state wasn't good. However, he felt he had improved. In the past year especially. Being able to sleep as much as he wanted (and not have nightmares), had done wonders for both his mental and physical states.

Not being hurt, abused, yelled at, humiliated, or degraded had also helped. In the whole two years he'd been here, no one had raised either their voice or a hand towards him in anger. No saying he needed to be taught a lesson; that he forgot his place…

On the contrary, the Valar he'd interacted with had shown him nothing but love, support, and healing. They'd gently encouraged him at every opportunity, trying to restore some measure of self-confidence and self-worth. Both of which he'd lost a long time ago.

Mairon soaked it up like a sponge, his soul all-but weeping at the attention he had been desperately seeking for Ages. Despite those efforts, though, Mairon still did not have much faith in himself. The Valar were optimistic he_ was _improving, but Mairon didn't know if he truly believed that himself yet.

Tonight's dinner party was as much a test as it was a challenge. For the first time since the Trial, Mairon was going to meet some of the other Maiar who served in Mandos. Not many. Simply Námo's and Vairë's chiefs (three in total), but Mairon was still nervous about meeting anyone else.

Especially someone of his own order. Especially someone more powerful than he. Such meetings had never gone well for him in the past – his interactions with the Fëanturi, their spouses, and Lady Nienna being the sole exceptions. Everyone else he'd ever met who was more powerful had wanted him destroyed. And even those of lesser power had often wished that on him.

His hand hovered above the necklace Lord Aulë had made. While it kept the dark powers Melkor had forced on him at bay (which was a huge relief), he missed his natural abilities keenly. He could still feel them in his mind, but was unable to get near them, or gain access. While not being able to use them did not hurt, it did make him feel lonely and adrift.

Especially if he didn't have something else to focus on. Hence the large amount of drawing he'd done lately. This brooch was not the first thing he'd sketched since hesitantly asking for a pencil and a bit of paper. Lord Námo had not only provided these things, but also supplied a folder to store them in. It had a dark blue cloth cover embroidered by Lady Vairë with his name, surrounded by brightly coloured flowers and birds. Mairon had loved it on sight. It was now his most treasured possession.

Not that he had many possessions to begin with…

"Mairon, may I come in?"

Mairon started at the question, and the gentle knock on the closed door that accompanied it. Heart racing, he took deep calming breaths. Closing his eyes, Mairon tried to calm his thoughts and heartbeat down.

Even after all this time, he still jumped when people approached his space unexpectedly, or spoke if he had no idea they were there. With his powers bound, he could no longer feel those around him (including the Valar) unless he was specifically focused on his surroundings. It was disturbing, like losing one's hearing or sight. But, Mairon would take it any day over having to worry about Morgoth's taint controlling him.

Corrupting him. Like it had done for Ages.

It was a while before he felt ready to answer, but the Vala who's care he was under (he would recognise that voice anywhere) was patient.

"Yes. Sir."

The Maia did not look up from his drawing as he felt Lord Námo approach him; trying to delay the inevitable. He was not prepared for the evening. Not that anything anyone (including himself), could do or say would prepare him for the evening, but still…

"That is a nice brooch."

Mairon finally looked up at the sound of Lord Námo's voice. The Vala was standing a few feet in front of the doorway, looking down at the drawing. The silver markings visible on his face glowed faintly; his gaze as unmasked as he ever allowed it to be. By the tilt of his head, Mairon knew him to be interested in the paper – or rather, the drawing on it. Mairon ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed.

"I can't decide whether emerald or turquoise is a better choice for the gem colour. I favour emerald, but there is something about silver and turquoise together…The frequencies of the two components would harmonize, rather than simply be parallel, like the emeralds would be so…"

Mairon's mouth moved before his brain caught up. When it did, he trailed off, realising Lord Námo would not have the slightest interest in hearing his opinions on what metals looked and worked the best with what gems.

Damn smith's brain running away with him again.

"It doesn't matter. At least drawing gives me something to do."

Námo said nothing in response, but silence from this Vala was normal. And he had said the brooch design looked nice. A finger of warmth spread through Mairon's fëa at the subtle praise for a simple drawing. Tucking his new drawing inside, he carefully closed his sketch folder and stood up.

"Ready to go, Little One?"

Mairon's smile was wry. Though calling it a smile at all was generous; it was more an awkward upward twist of his lips. He had yet to truly smile. Though he was trying (for the sake of pleasing the Valar, if nothing else), it was not easy.

"No. I don't think I'll ever be ready for this. Even more reason to do it now, right?"

Námo's expression did not change, but his voice was gentle, full of encouragement and patience. Mairon had learnt early on you could tell a lot about the Doomsman's mood and feelings from listening to his tone of voice. And right now, that tone was soft and soothing; a balm to his still-brutalised soul.

"All will be well, Mairon. Vairë and I spoke to our Maiar; they are very accepting of you. Especially once they heard Melkor hurt you, though the exact details have been kept secret. He targeted more than a few in our service at different times. Many more have been affected by his actions. They all know what he was like. No one will think less of you because of what he did."

Mairon's laugh was broken, and devoid of humour.

"I doubt anyone _could_ think less of me right now, even if they tried. It doesn't take a genius to know how they see me. I'm a traitor, a double agent, the one who betrayed them all. And, now I've come slinking back when things got hard, tail between my legs, begging for another chance." Mairon closed his eyes, hunching in on himself a little more. "You might have shown me mercy, but I'm pretty sure everyone else in Valinor hates me."

"I think you'll be surprised by how many sympathise with you. You were far from the only one to suffer from Melkor's treachery, Mairon."

* * *

The Maia opened dull golden eyes at his words. Even though they were brighter than they had when he'd first arrived, they were still nothing compared to the molten gold they'd once been. Námo knew this from talking to Aulë. While this Maia was different to the one who'd once served the Worldsmith, Námo could see similarities.

"But it was my own bad choices that led to that suffering. When I served Lord Aulë, I did not suffer like I did once I left."

Námo sighed. It wasn't the first time they'd had this type of conversation. And he knew it would not be the last. Mairon's very identity, his life essence, was damaged. He was still struggling to figure out _whom_ he even was. Though he was healing, he still had a long way to go before he was remotely capable of being able to dictate his own life. Let along figure out what he wanted to do with it.

But, Námo knew he would never get there if he didn't take any steps. They didn't have to be big ones. But, they needed to happen, if he wasn't going to hide away in his room until the remaking of Arda.

Tonight was one of these little steps. Though, for Mairon, it felt closer to a giant leap. There was no cause for anxiety, however. It was simply dinner with Námo, Vairë and their chief Maiar. None of whom would judge or belittle him for what he'd gone through, or done. Their Maiar weren't the sort to judge based on past events or actions.

"I know talking won't change your mind. I'll just have to show you you're wrong. Starting with dinner. Come. We don't want to keep Vairë waiting any longer."

* * *

Though reluctant to move, Mairon instinctively obeyed Lord Námo's gentle request. Placing his sketch folder on a chair with care, he tucked the pencil inside before trailing behind Námo as they left the safety of his room.

Unhurriedly, the Doomsman led them towards his and Vairë's private living quarters. Mairon had been in them several times before, though he preferred to remain in his room. Despite knowing he could be here (didn't have much choice in the matter, actually) being out in Mandos still felt like he was intruding on the space of others.

The only place he felt completely safe and comfortable was in his room. It was _his_ space, a safe-haven; his personal refuge from the cruel world. Nothing bad had ever happened to him there; no one had even entered without his permission to do so.

Not since he'd been well enough to give it anyway. But, Mairon knew he couldn't hide in there forever. Sooner or later, he would have to come out and interact with others. It was inevitable. As much as the though made his heart rate speed up and his palms feel sweaty.

Though, truth be told, so much time in solitary (while it had been nice at first), was beginning to drive him crazy.

Despite all that'd happened to him, he was still a Maia. And the Maiar were not designed to be solitary creatures. It was that very fact that had led to…

"Here we are."

Mairon started back to the present, as Lord Námo held the door open for him. Not allowing himself to think too hard about it, the Maia hurriedly stepped into the room. Námo was right behind him; a steady presence helping calm the panic threatening to rise and engulf Mairon.

As he entered, the first thing he noticed was the laughter. Laughter which only died down when Námo walked towards the three Maiar, and one Valië, already seated at the wooden dining table. Not knowing what else to do, Mairon trailed behind, trying to be invisible.

"Did I miss something funny?"

Lady Vairë's laugh was soft, her eyes sparkling with humour. The Maiar with her ducked their heads slightly, looking anywhere but at Námo (or each other, Mairon noticed).

"Nothing you'd understand, Dear." Vairë brushed her hand along one of Námo's own. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, before breaking contact. Vairë then turned her attention to the Maia hovering behind Námo with a warm smile. "Mairon. It's lovely to see you again. I would love it if you would come and sit by me. Introductions can wait until we are all settled."

Noting he was being placed between the two Valar made Mairon feel a bit better about this. After all the trouble they had gone to healing and looking after him these last two years, he doubted they would suddenly turn around and hurt him.

Or let anyone else do it in their presence, if he was going to think about this rationally. Though, to his intense surprise, the presence of the other Maiar was not as frightening as he'd feared.

He slipped quietly towards the chair Vairë had indicated. Perching on it, he glanced quickly at the others around the table. The tallest Maiar smiled warmly at him when he looked in her direction. She had silver hair shot through with strands of blue/green, Mairon noticed, before quickly lowering his gaze in deference to her senior position among the Maiar. The other two were dark haired, and were trying to make him feel comfortable by not looking at him directly. But, their efforts made it obvious that's what they were doing. For some reason their actions, rather than being awkward, put him at ease even further.

They were as unsure about how to react to the situation as he was. This knowledge made Mairon's lungs loosen, and his muscles (which had been tight all day), relaxed a fraction.

"Now we are all here, I'll get the introductions out of the way. Then we can eat. I understand Fanyamírë has prepared quite the feast for us."

Lady Vairë smiled warmly around at them all.

"Everyone, this is Mairon. Mairon, may I introduce Marilwë and Astarion, chiefs of Námo's Maiar, and Eärwá, my chief Maia."

The silver/green haired Maia, Eärwá, smiled at him again. She had blue/green eyes that constantly twinkled with amusement.

"Nice to finally meet you, Mairon. I've heard a lot from my Lady about you these past few years."

Seeing his facial expression, the tall Maia chuckled.

"Don't worry. It's all good. Welcome to the madhouse that is Mandos. Why anything thinks this place is quiet and tranquil is beyond me. Especially with these two madcaps around."

She indicated the twins with one thumb as he took the lid off one of the dishes on the table, sniffing appreciatively at the aroma greeting her actions. The male Maia started loudly protesting his innocence, while Vairë and Marilwë laughed. Even Námo looked vaguely amused, from the little that could be seen of his face. Mairon gave Eärwá a hesitant half-smile, keeping his eyes averted from hers, before turning his attention to the twins.

While most Valar had only one chief Maia (though there was often a second or third-in-command as well), Námo had two of equal rank. Something Marion hadn't known before learning about this dinner. The twins were similar in physical appearance, both their fanar having light olive skin and long black/brown hair, though Astarion's was a bit shorter. However, Marilwë had dark green eyes, while Astarion's eyes were amber, glowing with an unearthly inner light.

This light fascinated Mairon. (The smaller Maia was unaware his own golden eyes had once glowed with a similar light. He avoided mirrors, and the last time he'd seen his reflection had been when he'd been on the run from Eönwë back on Endórë.) Seeing his look, Astarion stopped protesting, (giving Eärwá an offended glare) smiling warmly at him.

"Hallo Mairon. I'll have you know, I _do not_ cause all the problems around here. Whatever they say. Fëanor does. You wouldn't believe what he tries to do. There's a reason he's not allowed out of his cell without close supervision. And, an even bigger reason all the other fëar are kept well away from him. Even his sons."

Vairë raised an elegant eyebrow as she took a forkful of salad.

"What's he done now?"

Astarion sighed, staring into his glass with a mournful expression.

"What _hasn't_ he done?"

Marilwë laughed; the sound made Mairon feel suddenly warm inside. Looking up at her in surprise, Mairon blinked, unused to these sensations. Seeing his look, she winked at him, before turning to Vairë.

"I think my brother is referring to Fëanor's latest attempts to destroy his cell door."

Eärwá raised an eyebrow in a manner not dissimilar to her Lady.

"He's still doing that? I though he gave up on it a couple of hundred years ago."

Astarion gave his own salad a mournful look. It was so mournful, Mairon swore to himself the lettuce actually wilted on the plate.

"He had. Can we please talk about something else? Mairon. What are some of your hobbies?"

Caught off guard, the copper-haired Maia started panicking. But, before it got to the point where it was noticeable, a gentle hand on his lap brought him back to the present. Mairon looked down, only to realise there was nothing there. However, a reassuring look from Lord Námo brought him back to himself. Mairon took a calming breath, letting it out slowly, before focussing on the amber-eyed Maia.

Astarion didn't mean him any harm.

None of them did.

"I'm…I'm not sure." He began slowly. He chanced a glance at Námo, but the Vala's expression and demeanour did not change. Mairon bit his lip, turning back to face Astarion. "It's… been a while since I had time for hobbies. Though I am currently enjoying drawing designs for jewellery. What do you like doing?"

The other Maia stabbed at his now wilted (Mairon knew it was not his imagination) salad with more ferocity then one normally used to eat salad.

"When Fëanor is behaving himself, I like reading. And spending time with our older sister, Liltára. She serves Lady Nessa, and never comes to the Halls. Being as busy as we are, we don't get to see her as often as we'd like."

Marilwë nodded in agreement. She was eyeing off her brother's attempts to butcher his salad with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"That's true. We always seem to be so busy. Rarely an opportunity comes up that allows us both to take more than an afternoon off. Astarion, are you going to eat that? Because if you aren't, I'll take it. Now, before you destroy it and its will to even pretend to be somewhat palatable."

The male Maia pushed his salad plate towards her without a word. Marilwë happily began eating what was left. In between mouthfuls of wilted lettuce, she spoke cheerfully.

"Seeing we seem to be having a 'what's your hobby?' sharing time…I like writing poetry, and spending time in Lórien. Gardening is also a nice way to relax the mind. Eärwá, your turn. What're your hobbies?"

Vairë's chief smiled.

"I like weaving, obviously, and embroidery, and anything to do with any of those things. And I also occasionally like invading the kitchen and cooking shortbread biscuits. Shortbread is the best, and no one else makes itright."

Everyone (except Mairon, whose lips just twitched upwards), laughed at the look on her face (except, naturally, for Námo, who had been silent ever since they'd sat down). The ice having been broken, conversation flowed more freely after that, as even Vairë joining in the cheerful chatter. Astarion mellowed as the knowledge he would not have to deal with Fëanor until tomorrow sunk in, while Marilwë asked Mairon what kind of jewellery he was drawing.

Before he knew what was happening, Mairon found himself telling her all about the brooch design he'd sketched out this afternoon. Before long, he had the attention of both Eärwá and Vairë as well. Upon hearing that, Astarion muttered something about 'jewellery is what landed Fëanor here.' The comment caused Mairon to pull away from the conversation, not wanting to cause difficulties. But, after seeing everyone ignored the other Maia and want to know more about his drawing, he slowly regained his confidence.

Though, Námo did give his chief a few lingering looks of concern only Vairë noticed.

Mairon was surprised when the meal ended, and everyone got up to leave. He had been enjoying himself so much, he hadn't realised just how much time had passed. Lord Námo had been right. No one had judged him for his past actions, nor even pitied him. They'd simply accepted him for what he was now.

It was a nice feeling, Mairon decided. He found himself loathed to go back to his empty room just yet. He'd been starved for affection and companionship from other Maiar for so long, that, now that it had been given him, he didn't want it to stop. Maia were not designed to live solitary lives. Mairon did not want to go back there just yet…

Námo noticed this (the Doomsman didn't miss anything, especially if it happened under his nose) and turned to one of this Maiar.

"Marilwë, would you like to escort Mairon back to his room? Mairon, would you like that? You can take your time; there is no hurry. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

Both Maiar nodded. Námo was pleased to note Mairon's eyes brightened at the thought of not having to go back to his empty room just yet. That sorted, the Vala turned to Astarion with a gentle look.

"Astarion, I would like to have a word with you. You don't seem happy, and it is not a recent development. Come, my child; we'll talk in my study."

Mairon instinctively stiffened, even as the other Maia nodded his consent, some of the tension visibly melting out of him. There was no fear or apprehension in Astarion's eyes at his lord's words, Mairon noted. Not as there would have been (and had been), had Morgoth said similar words to him. Or, even if Námo had said those words to him. All that existed on the other Maia's face was slight guilt, and, was that shame?

Mairon had no more time to contemplate that thought. Marilwë chose that moment to start talking to him as she practically dragged him away to show him something.

* * *

Marilwë and Mairon wandered the corridors together, stopping often to admire Vairë's tapestries. While this part of Mandos was separate to the part housing the fëar of the dead, the walls were still covered in colourful tapestries depicting past events. The figures within the works here seemed to dance with a life of their own. Mairon had noticed this the first time he'd been allowed out of his room. After watching them for hours, the Maia had realised, they did, in fact, have a life of their own. While the events being depicted were mostly mundane things, the tapestries were still woven with just as much skill as those decorating the actual Halls of Waiting; history was history to Vairë and her Maiar, no matter what it may depict. Not that Mairon had seen the major tapestries firsthand. He hadn't been into the part of Mandos housing the fëar of the dead.

He did not have clearance to go there. And, even if he did, he had no wish to.

His own room was in the living quarters occupied by Námo, Vairë and their Maiar. While it had initially surprised him (after his sentencing, he'd convinced himself he would be given a cell like Melkor. He'd been resigned to it, knowing it was far more than he deserved), he'd soon come to realise, with his natural abilities bound, it wasn't worth locking him up like that. It wasn't like he could do anything detrimental to them while devoid of even his base Maia abilities. Especially when he was under Lord Námo's ever watchful eye. That Vala didn't miss anything.

And to put him in a cell wouldn't be conductive to his healing, he'd been gently told when he'd finally mustered up the courage to ask Lady Nienna about it. He was here to be healed, not punished, all the Valar frequently reminded him. And, they would do whatever they could to help that happen.

As the two Maiar wandered along, pointing out to each other anything in the tapestries that caught their fancy, Mairon felt more at peace then he had for a long time. For the first time in literal Ages, he was enjoying the company of someone else without fear. Dinner had gone well, and Námo and Vairë's chief Maiar had accepted his presence in Mandos.

It was nice.

All too soon, despite the fact they were not hurrying, they reached the door to his room. There was an awkward silence as they stood there for a moment. Mairon finally broke it.

"Thank you for escorting me back?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the copper-haired Maia winced. That sounded terrible. However, before he could say anything else, Marilwë spoke. She was looked everywhere but at him, her feet shifting restlessly.

"I apologise for my brother's behaviour at dinner. He's found the last few decades difficult. He didn't used to be like this. Fighting for the Hosts of the West during the War changed him."

Mairon looked at his own feet.

"I'm sorry."

He had seemed to say those words a lot since his return. They were all he had to offer in recompense for his actions under Melkor. But, they still seemed so inadequate to the pain he had caused those around him.

Marilwë's smile was sad.

"Not your fault Lord Manwë's brother went mental and tried dragging the rest of the world down with him. We're all still recovering from what he did to us. You weren't the only one he hurt, Mairon."

At the openly sceptical look she received, the female Maia sighed.

"I mean it. And, someday, I will explain exactly what I mean. But not right now. The pain is still too close. For us both, I think."

Looking at him, Marilwë gave a warm smile.

"Goodnight Mairon. I will see you again soon?"

Mairon hesitantly met her eyes. The calm acceptance and understanding in them eased his tight chest, his own lips twitching subconsciously upwards in response.

"Goodnight, Marilwë. I – think you will. If Lord Námo permits. And – thank you."

* * *

**End of Chapter 1**

* * *

NOTES for this story:

#1 Mairon is very sensitive to sunlight. The glare hurts his eyes if he is exposed to it for too long, and he does not like the way everything is illuminated. He also does not like pure darkness (Melkor used it to punish him, sensory deprivation stuff). He does best with soft lights, like the stars, the moon, or dimmed lamps. His room in Mandos has no windows, but is always lit with soft gold lamps, in deference to this.

#2 Mairon has a lot of physically scars that will be mentioned from time to time. The worse are the ones on his neck from Huan (he always wears high collars/scarves/hoods to hide it) but he has others all over his body. Estë heals some. But many are imprinted into his psych, due to the traumatic circumstances of how he got them. A few of the major one's tie into certain plot points and will be explored, but the majority will not be mentioned again. Just know he has LOTS of them, and those around him will not always react very well to the physical evidence of his past torment. Mairon, however, is normally not bothered by them.

#3 With permission from AzureSkye23 (whose wonderful stories inspired this flight-of-fancy), Olórin (Gandalf) and Mairon are brothers in this Universe. I have also made Arien, the Maia whom guides the sun, their older sister. This is purely my idea.

#4 When I refer to Námo _masking_ his face, I mean he uses his power to hide his eyes and facial expressions so you can't tell what he is thinking or feeling. When I say he_ hides _his face, that means you can't see it because of the deep hood he wears. All his robes are hooded in this way, and he always wears dark colours. Think of a blue/black/purple colour scheme.

#5 *Words between these symbols indicated the characters are speaking mind-to-mind*

* * *

**And so it begins. This story is currently in three parts, but Part Three is unfinished. However, I figured I'd post Part One and see how we go. I hope to update twice a week or so, but we'll have to see what happens.**

**Anavantyar - to forgive**


	2. In Vairë's workshop

**Chapter 2: In Vairë's workshop**

"He's hit it off with Marilwë. There's probably not another in the whole of Valinor who understands what he went through like she does." Námo shifted so he was more comfortable in his chair. "Eärwá was her usual calm, accepting self, and Astarion was not bothered by Mairon. He was more focused on whining about Fëanor."

Manwë chuckled. "That elf causing you problems again?"

Námo's voice was dryer then a dessert. "He never _stops_ causing problems."

Manwë gave a smug grin at getting what passed as a joke out of the Doomsman.

"What did you end up doing with Astarion?"

"I gave him some time off. Told him to go stay with his older sister. He'll be at Nessa and Tulkas' until the end of next week. Hopefully the time away will help him heal. Now the War has ended, Mandos isn't busy. Marilwë and the others should be able to handle things for a week. The fëar, with a few exceptions, aren't hard to look after. I'll be around if they need me."

Manwë gave a small smile at the matter-of-fact way Námo said all this. While openly expressing emotions wasn't in his nature, the Doomsman of the Valar cared deeply for all living (and dead) beings. This was more than obvious when viewing how caring he was towards all the fëar in his Halls.

Even Fëanor and his sons.

It was also evident in the way he treated his Maiar, and in their behaviour towards him. They all adored their lord; and their trust in him was absolute. While he was strict with those who served him, he had _never_ been cruel to any of them, even by accident. His actions were always above reproach. Despite what the elves persistently thought, cruelty was not in his nature. There _was_ a difference between cruelty and being stern and strict.

Manwë and Námo were sitting in one of the private gardens at Manwë and Varda's mansion on Taniquetil. The Doomsman had just finished reporting the events of the previous evening to the Elder King. While Mairon had been with them for almost two years, this was the first major challenge he'd had to overcome involving other Maiar. Consequently, Manwë wanted to hear all about it.

And it'd gone very well, from Námo's account. Not that Manwë was surprised. Most of Námo and Vairë's Maiar were among the most non-judgemental and level-headed in Valinor.

Most being the appropriate word. There were a few in their service who had been known to blow up in a spectacular fashion on occasion. But, most of them had been drawn to either Námo or Vairë in the first place because they possessed calm, logical personalities. And those who did not have such personalities when they first started working for the Valar, quickly obtained them. It was almost impossible not to take on an air of cool sophistication when spending extended periods of time around either of them.

Námo's Maiar, especially, seemed to possess these qualities in abundance. Manwë never ceased to marvel at how calm and put-together they always seemed.

"I'm very glad to hear that." Manwë leant forward to grab the iced drink his Maiar had placed in the garden, in preparation for his and Námo's arrival. "Yes, Marilwë knows better than most what Mairon went through. It will do him good to have a friend."

His odd tone of voice made Námo look at his King with a raised eyebrow. "Why do you say it like that?"

Manwë sighed wearily.

"As soon as he heard Mairon was back, Olórin asked to see his brother. I said I would talk to you about it, once Mairon was stronger." Manwë's frown was pensive. "He blames himself for what happened between the two of them. He seems to think if he hadn't yelled at Mairon that day, his brother would not have joined Melkor. He's sure Mairon hates him for that, and says he understand if his brother does not want to have anything to do with him. But, he at least wants to know."

Námo looked interested. "I knew they were not, and still are not, close to their sister. But, I didn't know there was animosity between the brothers before Mairon left."

Manwë gave a heavy sigh. "Apparently, there was. And it got out of hand without me realising there was even a problem. Has Mairon said anything to you about his brother? Or about that day? I am still not entirely sure what even happened to cause them to fall out."

Námo shook his head. "No. He hasn't said much of anything about Before. We have not pushed him to share what he does not want to, concentrating on healing him and earning his trust. We hope he will voluntarily tell us these things one day. But, I can't imagine he blames his brother for what happened. He made the decision to join our fallen brethren, and he accepts responsibility for it. Perhaps too much so."

Manwë still looked pensive. "Do you think he will want to see his brother? Is he healed enough for that, do you think? From what I understand, their relationship was deteriorating for a while before they fell out. Though, I have no idea why that was the case either."

Námo almost frowned in thought. "He is healing, much faster than we thought he would. Last night was a big step forward, and possibly one of the hardest personal challenges he will have to face. But, he has a long, long way to go still. He's more damaged than anyone else I have ever encountered who spent time with Morgoth. He's much more damaged than any of the fëar I have dealt with – and in different ways than I'm used to seeing. And it keeps getting worse. He's opened up to us a little more in the past year especially, and the things that were done to him…" The pain in Námo's voice was tangible. "Frankly, it's a miracle he is even still alive, let alone functioning as well as he is."

Manwë bowed his head. His voice, when he spoke, was rough with emotion. "He was with the enemy a lot longer. And was subjected to greater brutality than anyone else who we've ever had to deal with. Even the Children we rescued after destroying Utumno were not subjected to what he was. Neither were the Maiar he took by force that we rescued. It makes sense Mairon will take longer to recover." The Vala's voice grew even softer. "If he ever does."

Námo masked eyes gazed out at nothing. "He will."

Manwë's head shot up to look at Námo. Understanding dawned in his eyes at his brother Vala's posture.

"What have you seen, Mandos?" He leant forward. "Tell me."

Námo's masked eyes flickered towards his King.

"Not much. Many challenges lie in the path to healing, and he will be a different Maia to the one who left. Many will oppose his presence here and, by extension, our decisions regarding him. Morgoth may be gone, but his evil influence remains rooted in the hearts of many."

Manwë looked at the Doomsman in alarm. "There are some among us who are still tainted by the evil?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell who they are?"

"No. They are unaware of his taint in them. And they have not yet made a move to act. Their identity is thus hidden from me."

"But they will oppose Mairon?"

Námo nodded. "Yes. And that opposition will take many forms."

"Do you know when, or where, this will happen? Or even who will do it? Tell me!"

"No. All I know is it will be hard for him. Mairon has come back to us, and he's here to stay, but he has yet to find his way back to the light. Fully that is. He is struggling towards it, and parts of him make it at times. But, he will not be able to make the change alone. The friendships and bonds he forges now will be needed in the trials that are to come. He will also need us."

Manwë ran a hand through his hair in an agitated movement. The pain this news brought him was etched on his face.

"Let me know if anything else becomes clear?"

Námo nodded. "Yes."

The two Valar were silent for a time. Manwë's shoulders were slumped, and he was staring at his hands, not really seeing them. Námo watched him for a long moment, before breaking the silence.

"_Atar _brought him back to us, Manwë." He said softly. "Mairon wouldn't have come back on his own. Even though he wants to be forgiven above all else and to be granted another chance. If not for Oromë running into him, who knows what could have happened. With the dark bonds Morgoth laid on his soul, the results would have been catastrophic." Námo's voice carried so much pain, that Manwë looked at him with deep concern. The Doomsman, however, continued talking without a pause. "I can see our father's guiding hand in the events leading to this moment. And, after looking after him for this long, I cannot think that _Atar_ would abandon him now. Would abandon **us** now. Nothing happens that isn't part of his plan, my brother. You, of all of us, know that."

Manwë shuddered at the thought of Mairon loose on Middle Earth with all that dark power unchecked. He might only be a Maia (though he was naturally a powerful one. Or at least, he had been), but Melkor had poured vast amounts of his own essence into Mairon's core – had twisted his very fëa into something unnatural and corrupt. This had enhanced his strength to the point that, if Mairon's abilities were to be unbound, he would be more akin in strength to one of the lesser Valar.

And a lot less mentally stable. For all that his power was strong, his mind was in no state to wield this power. Not so long as Melkor's darkness and hate remained.

"No, you're right. And I am glad beyond measure, with all the harm that has been done, at least one good thing came out of this War. If reclaiming Mairon from the darkness is the only thing we can do to help repair the damage Melkor wrought, all the pain and hardship almost seem worth it."

Námo looked at him. "_All_ the pain and hardship?"

Manwë sighed, dropping his head to rest in his hands. "So many have suffered from my bad decisions, Námo. While I now know nothing I did would've changed Him, I still regret everything. All the lives that were lost or destroyed, because I was so blind as to believe there was some good left in my brother. Good that never existed to begin with. Despite what everyone else was telling me, I acted out of love for him. Ignoring those things about him I did not want to accept. Despite the evidence being right there in front of me."

Manwë's voice was full of pain as he recounted all that had happened.

"My decisions have caused so much pain, Námo. For all of us, Valar, Maiar and all the Children. I have lost so much, caused _others_ to lose so much. Most of which can never be regained. I regret it all, and will carry this burden for the rest of time. If even one Maia Melkor corrupted can be saved from evil's influence, I will feel I have not completely failed at least one person."

Námo almost smiled. "You care about him."

Manwë's nod was emphatic. "I love the Maiar, Námo. All of them. You know this. Everyone knows this; I have never hidden it. I have loved them from the moment I first saw Eönwë's fëa in _Atar's _arms, and those feelings have only grown with time. To me, they are precious beyond measure. I see them as being akin to my own children; though, by rights, only those whom serve me can really be called that. So many being corrupted by my brother's treachery and lies is like a knife through my soul." Manwë looked up at Námo, who wore his usual impassive expression. "We might have been brothers in our father's thoughts, but in almost every other way, we were opposites. That led to us being enemies. And, whether by choice or design, I did not realise that. Until it was too late."

Námo said nothing. Manwë was silent for a long time, before looking at the Doomsman with renewed determination.

"I won't give up on Mairon, Námo. No matter what. Even if he gives up on himself. I refuse to believe one who has suffered so much, who has been so grievously hurt by the very person who should have loved and cared for him, is beyond redemption. If he is, then everything we have suffered is in vain. All the pain and loss was for nothing. I will not let that happen. Not again."

* * *

Mairon watched Vairë work in fascination. The Valië was currently working on a large tapestry, her long, thin fingers expertly weaving the bobbin through the warp threads. The copper-haired Maia was captivated by the deft way she transformed the lifeless threads hanging in front of her into an image glowing with life and beauty.

After the success of last night's dinner, Mairon had consented to meeting some of the other Maiar whom served in Mandos. As he still wasn't allowed out of his room without an escort (and as Námo would be gone most of the day), Vairë had offered to allow him to follow her, and see what she did. While the Maia did not know the Valië very well, he felt safe with her. Safe in he knew she wouldn't hurt him, nor let anyone else do so. She was also caring in a way not dissimilar to her husband, though she was more open in showing her care and concern.

While the thought of meeting a lot more Maiar all at once (there were many whom served Vairë) had cause momentary panic, Mairon found his longing for companionship, the ache that'd sprung up since the end of the meal last night, had grown. Simultaneously, some of his fear of meeting others had dissipated. And, after Vairë had explained they would not go to the main workshop, but to a more private one which would have less Maiar in it, Mairon had agreed. She also assured him that, if he felt uncomfortable at any point, she would take him back to his room.

Almost before he knew what was happening, Mairon had found himself sitting next to Vairë in a small workroom on the upper floors of Mandos. While most thought Mandos was designed to house the dead, only the vast lower levels (which were located underground, the rest of Mandos being built on top of a hill) were devoted to the fëar. While the Halls of Waiting themselves were shadowed and gloomy to keep the fëar comfortable, the rest of Mandos was anything but.

The middle/ground level consisted of comfortable living quarters for Námo, Vairë and their Maiar. This area contained both private sleeping rooms (Námo and Vairë had an entire wing of rooms to themselves), and a large communal sleeping space for those whom wanted company and/or to cuddle with others while they slept. Mairon did not fully understand why anyone would want to do that. The thought of being that vulnerable in front of others had caused his heartrate to momentarily speed up. But Marilwë had explained last night that most of the Maiar would rather have company, even while they slept. On occasion, Námo and Vairë had even slept there with them, she'd told him. It didn't happen often, but it had.

Mairon had thought over that fact for a long time once she'd left, trying to understand why Námo and Vairë would humble themselves to sleeping with their servants. He was too nervous to say anything or ask anyone about it, and so eventually had just added it to the mental list of things he did not understand when it came to the Lord and Lady of Mandos.

The residential wings of Mandos wrapped around an inner garden. The garden was completely enclosed, a glass roof providing sunlight for the plants, shrubs and small trees to grow. Looped silk cloths hang from the roof for anyone to relax in, and the ground was covered in cushions and small tables. The space was surprisingly large, yet, by a clever design feature, the gardens did not intrude on the halls. Rather, it just existed in the middle of the buildings; a place of respite for its inhabitants.

While the interior rooms were dim and shadowed, the outside of Mandos was covered in windows. The walls of some of Vairë's workshops, right up on the top levels, were constructed almost entirely of see-through glass. Or, failing that, were made of large mirrors used in the creation of the tapestries. Many rooms had roofs made of glass; a few were even open-aired. There was also a large rooftop terrace leading off from Vairë's main work hall. The whole place was designed in such a way that would have utilised the light from the Two Trees to their full potential, Mairon had been told when he'd commented on the design. Even now, they allowed the most amount of natural light in as was possible, while still providing a functional space. In certain rooms, you also had a magnificent view out over both Valinor, and the Outer Sea, depending on which direction you looked.

Not that Mairon had done more than glanced at any of this as he'd passed through. The sunlight was way too bright there, and Vairë knew it. She'd briefly greeted a few of her servants, before whisking him through to a smaller room, where less than a handful of Maiar were working. The sunlight there was dimmed, helped along both by less windows, and by the blinds helping to block the glare. While it was still brighter then he would have liked, Mairon's eyes soon adjusted so it didn't hurt – so long as he stayed close to or in the shadows.

There almost seemed to exist two different worlds in Námo and Vairë's domain. Mandos might have this reputation as being gloomy and dull, but all but the underground levels contained an abundance of colourful rugs, fluffy blankets, and soft pillows. Even the hallways had cushions piled up in various places, little nooks tucked into the walls where anyone could stop and rest. The same was true in Vairë's workshops, the floor of which was covered in carpets and cushions. All these things combined to make the whole place feel very homey, which was a far cry from what popular reputation had to say about the Halls of Mandos.

Not that many outsiders ever came here. While the domains of other Valar might get many visitors, the only people who ever visited here (apart from Nienna, her Maiar, and Irmo) were dead.

And in their case, the reputation of Mandos was more than accurate.

The sun had passed its zenith (evident by the dim shadows on the floors) by the time Mairon grew bored with just watching Vairë work. When he started exhibiting restlessness, the Valië directed him to work on untangling a pile of woollen threads sitting in a box in one corner of the room, left over from some project. Vairë patiently showed him how to carefully separate the different colours, rolling them up into small balls, to be used for whatever purpose she decided. Doing something to help a Vala again, even if it wasn't a big or important job, relaxed Mairon like nothing had in years.

The Maiar were designed to serve; that desire was part of their nature. That they would serve and help the Valar had been their father's intention when he created them. Mairon felt some of the uncertainty plaguing him leave as he worked, sitting on a big, soft cushion at Vairë's feet. The happy chattering of the few Maiar around them, the calm that permeated the Valië's domain, and the comradery and companionship between all whom served here worked together to make him feel more secure than he had in Ages.

Before too long, he even found himself talking with Quentalë, who was helping Vairë with this tapestry. Or, more accurately, hesitantly responding to the gentle questions the other Maia asked him. Quentalë, he found out, was Eärwá's husband, one of the few male Maia to help Vairë and her maidens with tapestry making. He was tall and fair skinned, with wavy short brown hair and gentle grey eyes. When he wasn't talking, he subconsciously hummed. Mairon found the sound very soothing.

Everything about Mandos was soothing, Mairon realised. He was beginning to understand why the Valar had sent him here to heal.

* * *

Concealed from the senses of everyone but his wife, Námo stood in the corner of Vairë's workshop, watching Mairon. The copper-haired Maia was talking with Quentalë, while making sure to continue carefully sorting out the threads, rolling them up into small balls. He looked the most happy and relaxed Námo had ever seen him. The sight helped dispel some of the worry resulting from his earlier talk with Manwë.

Not wanting to reveal himself to the Maiar, Námo reached out to his wife, communicating via ósanwe.

*He's been okay?*

Vairë nodded. She'd known the moment he'd arrived.

*Yes. He's been here all morning, and there have been no problems. He watched me work for a long time, before getting restless. I gave him a job to do, hoping it would keep him occupied. It seems to have worked.*

Both Valar looked at the Maia. Mairon was concentrating on his task, a look of contentment shining in his otherwise dull gold eyes.

*He seems happy.*

Vairë smiled

*He is. He's also calmed down since I gave him something to do. Perhaps we should look at finding him some permanent tasks to do while he's still healing. He isn't yet fit for anything too strenuous, but I'm sure we can still find something to make him feel useful.*

Námo sighed.

*I fear he's not yet strong enough to do anything, my Love. However, I will think about what you said. After all, we want him to feel as safe and secure with us as possible.*

The tone of Námo's mental voice made Vairë frown.

*What has happened?*

Námo's answer was short, and to the point.

*Olórin wants to see his brother.*

Vairë raised an eyebrow, even as she did not look up from her work.

*And…?*

Námo mentally sighed.

*The last time they spoke, it ended in a massive argument. And then Mairon left us. Olórin blames himself for the fact his little brother turned to Melkor.*

The Valië was silent for a time, mulling this over.

*This is going to be an interesting meeting.*

Both Valar looked at Mairon again.

*When will you tell him about his brother?*

Námo's thoughts were conflicted.

*Soon, but I am not sure when. While he is doing better, his emotional and mental states are still very fragile. I don't know if he's yet strong enough to deal with the memories and emotions such a meeting would dredge up.*

Vairë's answering voice was gentle.

*Given enough time and support, he will be, my love. We'll make sure of it.*

* * *

**Well, I now know a lot more about both weaving and tapestry making then I did before. It was an hour of watching YouTube videos well spent. I recommend, if you want to know more, watching The Art of Making a Tapestry by the Getty Museum in YouTube. It is fascinating.**


	3. Progress

**I'm depressed, but all the lovely feedback is cheering me up. Here's another chapter as thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Progress**

"We will overcome the darkness in you, Mairon. I promise. It will just take time."

The Maia gave an obedient nod. His eyes, however, remained fixed on his lap, his fingers making quick work of the tangle of threads. They moved in and around snarls, gently teasing out each individual strand. Ever since the day he'd spent with Vairë in her workshop, sorting out tangled threads and yarn had become his job (for weaving and other textile work being their sole job in life, Vairë and her Maiar managed to create vast quantities of tangles). It was an easy task, one Mairon could do anywhere. Plus, it was not taxing on his still-slowly-healing body and mind.

"I'm sure you will, Lady Nienna." He murmured, making the final tug to a strand and placing the now liberated piece next to him.

The Valië looked at the weary slump of Mairon's shoulders, and his duller than usual golden eyes. Sorrow and pity welled up in her; fresh tears leaking out of her eyes. Putting an arm around the Maia, she was pleased when he didn't shy or flinch away from her touch. Such had been his initial reaction for the longest time, and it'd pained her each time she saw it. This time, though, Mairon even leant into her a little, closing his eyes in exhaustion after carefully placing the tangle of threads aside.

He was so damaged and tormented. While many would doubtlessly argue he had caused plenty of damage and torment to others as well (and so deserved what he got), to see him like this was heartbreaking. Especially when one knew what he'd gone through. Knew the ways Morgoth had ripped apart his very identity, forcing Mairon to do his bidding. While the Maia was handling whatever came his way with a surprising amount of skill and maturity, Nienna did not have to look hard to see how unsure and adrift he was.

He was currently bereft of a Valar to serve, or even a given job to do (while untangling threads for Vairë was something, no one considered it _real_ work) things no Maia should have to endure. While most of the other Valar saw her brother as being Mairon's lord (at least temporarily), Nienna knew Mairon did not feel that way. _Could_ _not_ feel that way; not without the bond tying a Maia to their Vala. And he was nowhere _near _strong enough for that type of bond. Not when everything within him was still weak, still shaky: emotionally, mentally, and physically.

The Maiar were created to serve; to help the Valar with whatever needed to be done. It was as natural to them as breathing was for the Children. As natural as protecting and loving their Eru-given children were for the Valar (or, as natural as it should be). Though, of course, Morgoth had never seen it that way.

Not being strong enough to do the very job for which he was created was a heavy weight on Mairon's soul. On top of that, having his Maiarin abilities bound was unnatural, and did not help the situation. While Nienna could see and feel his relief of not having to worry about Melkor's dark magic, she also sensed the empty hole being denied access to his own abilities caused.

It was yet another hole in the Maia's already tattered and torn soul. While no one had so much as touched his mind since the Trial, Nienna would not soon forget the memories of sheer terror, and pure agony, they had experienced.

She doubted she would ever forget the feeling of a delicate soul being cruelly violated to its very core. The feeling of a soul of light and beauty being corrupted into something dark and twisted by force, until it was powerless to do anything but obey its torturer.

That darkness was still there; it had not abated in the slightest. If she reached out to read the aura Mairon's fëa left around his fana, she could sense it lingering just under the surface, bound by the necklace (she would _not _call it a collar; none of them did) the Maiar wore. It felt like… like one of the sharks Ulmo had created several years prior. Silent, yet dangerous, ready to attack at any moment if given half the opportunity or provoked.

It could not fight against the bindings of the tilkal necklace Mairon wore, but Nienna knew it was only biding its time. It had not gone, and would not go, until they were able to enter Mairon's mind and remove it. The Maia might be with them in Valinor now, receiving the care and love he should have had his whole life. But, he was still just as deeply in thrall to Morgoth as he'd been when he was on Middle Earth.

It was just incapable of controlling him right now.

Reaching a decision, the Valië reached out into Mandos with her mind, seeking its lord.

*Brother-mine?*

It wasn't long before Námo responded, though his mental voice sounded somewhat distracted.

*Yes, my sister?*

Rather than replying verbally, Nienna opened her mind to her brother. She showed him the pain and emptiness she detected in the Maia. Námo was silent for a long time afterwards.

*What would you suggest I do?*

Nienna allowed him access to another part of her mind. Showing him the emptiness and uselessness Mairon experienced from being bereft of someone to serve.

*He's not yet well enough to choose a Valar to serve permanently, sister-mine. You know this fact; have agreed to it.*

Nienna closed her mind, hiding her uncomplimentary thoughts of how dense her brother could be at times (both of them could be at times, if she was being honest), before speaking to him.

*No, he is not. But, surely you could find something for him to do in Mandos? Something more important than untangling threads? Being able to serve again, to have some real responsibility, no matter how small, will help him feel grounded. He's already improved slightly from the simple task set to him by your wife. Even you cannot deny that.*

Námo sounded pensive.

*Vairë made a similar suggestion the other day; she too, has seen small improvements. I've been thinking on it. I'm just worried he isn't strong enough for much more than he is doing as of now. I've had long talks with Aulë since Mairon came back. I'm afraid this Maia's natural drive to achieve perfection in everything he does will be detrimental to his healing if we give him any further jobs, or more strenuous work. He will harm himself in a need to prove himself.*

Nienna's answer was short, and to the point.

*Floating along, feeling adrift and useless, is detrimental to his healing. There must be a balance that can be obtained. He cannot improve much further then he already has if left in this state.*

She felt Námo considering her observation; though his thoughts remained closed to her. Finally, after careful deliberation, he spoke.

*You speak truly. I will talk to Vairë again, see what we can do. If you think it will help him?*

The Valië's answer was firm.

*I am sure it will.*

*I'll see what can be done, then. But. Do not expect instantaneous results. I must ensure his short-term well-being over everything else. I do not want to run the risk of him being hurt again, even by accident.*

The connection faded. Nienna returned her attention to Mairon, giving a gentle smile at what she saw. The Maia had since fallen asleep. While they'd talked, she had been helping him to sort out the threads of yarn. Now, though, his head lay in her lap where it had slipped as his grip on consciousness faded. Even in sleep, he still sought comfort and love.

Nienna covered him with one of Vairë's fluffy blankets, before running a gentle hand through his soft hair. They were in one of Námo and Vairë's sitting rooms (where she always saw Mairon) so there was no shortage of blankets and pillows around them. This was not the first time Mairon had fallen asleep on her, and Nienna doubted it would be the last.

Not that she minded. Mairon had been denied the love and care he craved for far too long, receiving cruel abuse in its place. If she could make up for those long Ages of suffering, in whatever small way, she would. Sitting there, nursing the broken Maia, the Valar of Pity and Mercy wept anew for all the suffering Melkor's discord had caused for so many.

* * *

"Mairon, please."

The copper-haired Maia shook his head so fast it almost looked like it was about to fall off. He raised his hands, taking several steps back from the person standing in front of him.

"No, Marilwë, I can't. What if I—"

"What if you have a great time?" The female Maia cut him off before he could begin listing the long line of what-ifs they had just gone through. She crossed her arms. "Please Mairon. They all want to meet you; several are envious of Vairë's Maiar for having at least seen you. It is an overcast day, so the sun won't hurt your eyes, and no one will judge you or be mean. All who serve in Mandos know what Melkor was like. Don't forget, he was imprisoned here for three Ages."

Mairon hunched his shoulders in. Wrapping his arms around himself, he rubbed his thumb along his forearm.

"I know." He whispered. "I can't ever forget it. One of the worse days of my life was when he came back after that." His eyes glazed over as he descended once more into memory. "He was mad at everyone and everything, and took a lot of it out on me. Especially towards the end."

Marilwë winced. "I did not know."

Mairon shrugged. "I-I try not to think about it. While he was always careful not to hurt me to the point where I couldn't still do my job, I carry scars from his tantrums. It took _years_ for his anger to burn out, or at least settle down. He never truly let go of that madness, not even after he returned." He winced. "Estë has healed my body a little, but as for my mind…"

Mairon swallowed, lifting his gaze briefly to meet that of Námo's chief, before skittering back down to look at the floor.

"Marilwë, how… how much did Lord Námo tell you about what was done to me?"

Námo's chief Maia shook her head, ducking her head slightly to try and catch his gaze.

"Not a great deal. Just that you were badly hurt by Morgoth and are here healing. Also, that you do not have access to any of your abilities right now, because of what _he _did." Marilwë looked pensive. "My Lord also told us Morgoth hurt you psychologically, though he did not say how. I will be honest with you, Mairon. Several in Námo and Vairë's service _were_ worried when they heard you were back in Valinor, and had received mercy. Especially those who've had to deal with the fëar of his captives, and who recorded the events that went down on Middle Earth. Even I was concerned at first. But, our lord assured us all that the Valar had taken precautions to ensure you would not cause the destruction Morgoth did. That they were satisfied your repentance was genuine, and you wanted a second chance. Unlike him."

"Námo also told us Morgoth forced you to do much of what you did, and emphasised you are not a threat to any of us. Once we heard that, not one of us held any animosity towards you anymore. We trust Námo, Mairon. He has never given us a reason not to. If he says he believes something about someone, we accept that."

Want warred with the primal fear on Mairon's face. Marilwë sighed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She was taller than he was, though not by much; the top of his head was level with her lips.

"For as long as you stay in Mandos, you are one of us." She whispered, squeezing his shoulder gently in reassurance. "I know you will probably move out one day, but for now…please, Mairon. We want to get to know you. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, I promise I will bring you back here. No questions asked."

Mairon wavered. The want in his eyes was hard to ignore. Yet, still he hesitated.

"What is wrong? I can see you want to do this."

Mairon looked at the female Maia.

"I-I need Lord Námo's permission to go anywhere, or do anything outside Mandos. I cannot answer until I ask his leave."

"That is easily remedied." Marilwë concentrated for a moment. Seconds later, there was an odd shimmer in front of them, and the Doomsman stepped out of thin air.

"You have something to ask me, Mairon?"

The copper-haired Maia mock-glared at the taller female. "Traitor."

Marilwë was unrepentant. "I want you to come on this picnic. Ask. Or I will."

Mairon gave in, turning to face the Vala. "Marilwë has invited me to a picnic in Lórien. But, as I am not allowed to leave here without your permission…"

Mairon trailed off. Námo remained impassive.

"You want to ask me if you can go to my brother's realm for the picnic?"

Mairon sighed, ducking his head.

"Apparently."

Námo's voice softened.

"If you would like to, you have my permission to go, Mairon. I think it will do you good. Who else will be there?"

This question was addressed to Marilwë, who rattled off a list of names. When she'd finished, Námo nodded thoughtfully.

"You have been selective. No one else is joining you?"

Marilwë shook her head. "Not if Mairon agrees to come. We want a chance to get to know our newest brother before inflicting some of the more…unusual personalities on him."

Marilwë's eyes danced with mirth, even as she directed a smile at the smaller Maia that was blinding in its intensity. Mairon, who had been warring with his thoughts, suddenly nodded decisively.

"I will come."

Marilwë beamed. "Great! Let's go!"

Even though she was excited, Marilwë had enough presence of mind to hold out her hand for Mairon to take, rather than to simply grab him as she wished. The other Maia looked to Námo, his brow furrowed and mouth tight. Marilwë was unable to read or understand what passed between them. But, Mairon suddenly put his hand in hers with a lot less hesitation then he'd had before. Without wasting anymore time, Marilwë thought them to the special clearing in Lórien.

Námo's Maiar often came here when they weren't working and wanted some fresh air. The clearing was secluded enough that they were rarely disturbed by anyone, but still held all the beauty that marked the more visited areas of Lórien. It was a place they all liked to go when they were trying to unwind. No one, not even their own siblings or spouses who served other Valar, truly understood what it was like working in Mandos. They didn't understand the mental exhaustion that came from dealing with the dead. They didn't understand how it was difficult to fully relax in Mandos – even when they were not required to do anything. How the Maiar who worked there, as much as they loved their home and loved the Valar they served, needed to escape every so often. Nor did they understand how sitting around doing absolutely nothing, or acting like a five-year-old mortal, sometimes helped you to unwind more than anything else.

Eight or so Maiar had already gathered there; everyone looked up when Marilwë appeared. Upon seeing Mairon was with her, a great cheer went up, causing the copper-haired Maia to blink in bewilderment. He was still slightly green from the journey. Among the Maiar's abilities was a protection against the disorientation teleportation caused. With his abilities bound, Mairon did not have that protection, and therefore was affected more by blinking through space. The Valar knew about this, and compensated for it if they took him anywhere. However, Marilwë did not know this, and Mairon was too ashamed of this weakness to say anything.

Marilwë grinned at him. "Told you they all wanted to meet you and get to know you better. Now, where is my brother? He said he'd help me introduce everyone."

Looking around, Marilwë grinned to see Astarion sprawled out on his back, eyes closed. His mouth was half open, and he was snoring. Giving a mischievous look, the Maia let go of Mairon's hand, walking softly towards him. Picking up a pebble (making sure it was big enough that he wouldn't accidently swallow it) the female Maia dropped it into her brother's open mouth, retreating with an evil grin.

The results were instantaneous.

Astarion's snores abruptly stopped. His eyes flew open, and he sat up with a choking sound, spitting out the pebble. Looking around him with watering amber eyes, the Maia coughed and spluttered as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

Then he saw his sister standing there, grinning. His eyes hardened.

"My evil twin. I might have known." He growled as he rose to his feet.

Marilwë's laugh was gleeful as she took off, Astarion in close pursuit. All the other Maiar watched in amusement, cheering on one or the other (or both and switching sides as easily as starlight twinkled) as the twins raced around the clearing.

Finally, they exhausted their energy. Or at least, Astarion did. The Maia collapsed in a heap near Mairon, gasping for air, glaring at his sister. Marilwë looked fresh enough to go another few rounds, but her brother was clearly exhausted.

"I hate you." He huffed around breaths.

"Love you too, brother-mine."

Astarion continued to glare as he got his breath back. Marilwë's grin was unrepentant.

"I keep telling you to exercise more. Thinking yourself around Mandos does not build stamina."

Astarion looked around at the other Maia, all of whom were grinning. He gave them all baleful looks, before his eyes landed on Mairon, and he blinked.

"Mairon? When did you arrive?"

The copper-haired Maia shrugged.

"With Marilwë."

Astarion looked at his sister with a raised eyebrow.

Marilwë gave him a smug grin. *You thought I wouldn't be able to talk him into it, didn't you?*

Astarion rolled his eyes, not deigning to reply to. Once he'd gotten his breath back, the siblings began formally introducing Mairon to those who had gathered.

* * *

Introductions out of the way, the Maiar settled down to their picnic. Their happy chatter soon filled the air, and Mairon found himself drawn into their conversations. While he did not say much himself, he still felt included in what they were talking about. It was a nice feeling – one he had never experienced before. The Maiar working in Aulë's forges had always been too busy trying to outdo each other in works of craftsmanship to form relationships (he had to admit to being guilty of that as well).

Or, to be more accurate, trying to outdo _Mairon_ in works of craftsmanship. The fire-and-earth Maia was very aware it had been his superior skills in that area that had drawn Melkor to him in the first place. The Dark Vala had told him as much (lorded it over him, in fact, taking great delight in drilling into Mairon's head how the Maia was culpable for the horror he found himself in) during Mairon's long, bitter years in his service. Even as he'd broken the Maia into pieces, re-building him into something alien and unnatural.

Mairon hadn't even found peace among the other Maiar Morgoth had convinced to follow him. The Dark Lord did not allow such pleasures as that. Not only did Morgoth not encourage amicable relationships (he much preferred it when his Maiar were reporting on each other, and trying to outdo each other for his attention), but the entire atmosphere of Angband also did not lend itself to the cultivation of friendships.

Except for one…

A soft hand on his shoulder brought Mairon back to reality. He blinked in disorientation for a moment, before looking up to see Astarion standing at his side. The older Maia had an understanding look in his eyes, even as he removed his hand, smiling cheerfully down at Mairon like nothing had happened.

"Mairon. Now that you are back – half of us want to play hide-and-go-seek, and the other half want to play tag. You are the only one who hasn't yet voted. Your vote will decide what we do." In a softer voice meant only for his ears, Astarion continued. "Please agree to play hide-and-go-seek. I owe my sister payback for the pebble. She will cream me in a game of tag."

The pleading puppy dog eyes Astarion gave him were so pathetic-looking, it made Mairon bark out a laugh. It was a genuine laugh, leaving the Maia feeling lighter than he had in ages. Giving the waiting group a hesitant grin, Mairon spoke clearly.

"I want to play hide-and-go-seek."

* * *

Hidden from the senses of his brother's Maiar, Irmo watched Mairon become engrossed in the game. At Námo's request, he'd kept a covert eye on the picnic, making sure Mairon was okay. While interacting with others was necessary for him to heal, the damage the Maia had sustained made doing so a struggle for him. To help Mairon feel less anxious, at Irmo's request, Manwë had ensured clouds hid this part of his gardens from the sun. The deep twilight that was created still allowed everyone to see, while reducing the glare so it didn't hurt the Maia's eyes.

Mairon's sensitivity to the light was tragic. Made more so by the fact he was also terrified of complete darkness, Irmo thought. Morgoth had harmed him so grievously in so many ways. The least of which had ensured he had almost no self-confidence, nor sense of self-worth.

Though, given what he knew now, the Vala of Dreams and Visions couldn't help but wonder if this Maia had ever _truly_ felt self-confident.

"He's healing. It's slow, but it's happening."

Irmo blinked in surprise at his wife, who silently appeared beside him.

"What are you doing here, dear? I thought you would be sleeping. It is daytime."

Estë smiled at her husband.

"I know. And I will go back to sleeping soon. I just…want to see this."

Irmo put his arm around her, and the Valar watched the Maiar play in silence. At first, Mairon was very hesitant and unsure of himself. But everyone cheerfully helped and encouraged him, and he gained more confidence as time went on. By the time the game ended, he was even smiling – a genuine smile, not the tense, half-hearted, unsure thing he had worn for the past several years when the Maia felt the situation dictated a smile. As the happy, chattering Maiar packed up the remains of their picnic and started departing for home, Irmo smiled at his wife.

"Yes. He is healing."


	4. Brothers reunited

**Thank you for all your lovely reviews and support for this story. I'm going through a rough time at the moment with work, and posting this story and receiving lovely feedback is making things more bearable. Thank you. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Brothers reunited**

"Mairon."

The Maia paused in his work, looking at the Vala who'd appeared. He was surprised to see Námo. The Lord of the Dead was usually with the fëar at this time of the afternoon.

The fact Námo was here, and he felt no fear or worry because of that fact, surprised him. No, what surprised him was the fact that the Lord of Mandos' _appearance_ hadn't startled or worried him in any way. He could still remember a time, not long ago, when one of the Valar appearing without warning would have startled, or scared, him. His heart would begin racing as his mind and body screamed at him he was about to be hurt. Screamed at him he'd done _something _to displease them, to incur their wrath, just as he'd always done with Melkor.

It had taken a long time for him to not instinctively flinch away when they said something, or cower when they moved. But, somewhere along the line, the fear causing that reaction had disappeared. Now, Mairon just found himself wondering why Lord Námo was disturbing his work.

While he didn't feel like it, maybe he _was_ healing.

"Yes, Lord Námo?" He asked, setting his work to the side to give the Vala his full attention as was proper. The Vala looked as impassive as ever, but the gentle tone of his voice when he spoke was anything but.

"How are you liking the work we have given you? Is it too hard?"

Mairon involuntarily flinched, the Vala's words dragging up a memory he would have rather stayed buried. Melkor had found him slumped over his desk once, fast asleep. The fallen Vala had been driving him hard for several months, ever since he'd returned from his captivity in Valinor. Between all the extra work, and the anguish he was in from the recently re-awakened command still seared into his fëa, Mairon hadn't been sleeping well. Not that he was given much time to sleep, with Melkor not needing to. One day it'd all been too much. His eyes had closed before he knew what was going on. He'd woken to Melkor's hand painfully gripping his hair, fire smouldering in his Master's eyes.

"_Is your work too hard, my little wolf, that you must sleep at your desk?" _He had questioned in a soothing tone they both knew was fake. _"I must not have been caring for you as I should. I should remedy that." _

By that point, Melkor had already drilled into his skull the lesson of not verbally complaining about any work he was given. And, after that day, Mairon was also careful to never fall asleep where his Master could easily find him…

"Mairon?"

Mairon jerked out of his memories at the sound of Lord Námo's voice. Frantically shaking his head, he stuttered. "N-no, Lord Námo. It is fine. I am fine. I don't mind the work at all. It gives me something to do. Truly."

Námo's expression did not change, but his posture was totally non-threatening as he lowered himself into a chair that suddenly appeared. "Mairon. There is no reason to be afraid. You will not be punished or scolded if you find the work too strenuous. You are still healing, my child. None of us here want you to hurt yourself more in the process. You have nothing to prove, nor is your care or position dependent upon the work you complete."

Mairon lowered his gaze, biting his lower lip. "I-I know, Lord Námo. But truly, the work is not too much."

Námo nodded. "That's good. You will tell me if that changes."

It was clearly a command. And yet, as Námo's commands always did, it held none of the spite or anger Melkor's had. It came across more like a suggestion than anything else. Mairon nodded obediently.

"Yes, Lord Námo. I will."

When Námo said no more, nor got up to leave, Mairon gave him a questioning look.

"Is there anything else, Lord Námo?"

The Vala gave a slow nod.

"Yes, there is. But I would prefer talking in private. When you've finished your work here, come to my office."

Mairon's shoulders tensed on instinct. Námo noticed.

"You are not in trouble, Mairon, and have done nothing wrong. Something has just come up that concerns you. I wish to talk to you about it where no one else can possibly overhear us."

Mairon forced his shoulders to relax, taking a few calming breaths. The Vala waited patiently until he felt calm enough to reply.

"Okay. I shouldn't be too much longer. Lord Námo."

Námo's voice gave nothing away.

"Take your time. I'm in no hurry. You know where my office is."

Mairon nodded, and the Vala vanished as abruptly as he had arrived. Blinking at the spot for a moment, Mairon wondered what Námo wanted to talk to him about that required complete privacy. It was obviously important.

The Maia quickly finished up his task, and headed towards Námo's study. He was permitted to wander freely within the living quarters of Mandos now, and to go up into Vairë's workshops, so long as he had her permission beforehand. He didn't take advantage of that privilege often. The sunlight was still too much for him to handle in anything but small doses. But, otherwise, he was just bound by the same rules governing Mandos as everyone else. This small measure of freedom and trust from the Vala whose authority he was under meant more to him then he admitted. Though, he was sure Námo was aware of his feelings on the matter.

Nothing that happened in his Halls escaped the Doomsman of Arda's notice.

* * *

Mairon sat opposite the Lord of Mandos in one of Vairë's cushioned chairs. Even Námo's private study hadn't escaped the Valië and her needles and loom. It was as filled with rugs, blankets, tapestries and cushions as the rest of Mandos. Once Mairon was seated, Námo got straight to the point.

"Mairon. Olórin has asked to see you."

The Maia froze, complex emotions flashing across his face. It was a while before he spoke, but Námo was patient. When he did speak, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

Námo gave him a steady look. "You are his brother."

Mairon swallowed.

"But, why would he want to see me?" He ducked his head, twining his fingers around each other. "I-I said some… some not nice things to him. And-and-and…" The Vala waited patiently, as Mairon struggled to find the right words. "And h-he said that he-he h-hated me."

Námo's voice was incredibly gentle, yet still managed to command attention and respect.

"Ah. So that's how it happened. Mairon, I can only go off what Manwë told me. He said Olórin blames _himself_ for what happened to you. He thinks _you_ hate him; that you ran away because of what _he_ said."

Mairon looked at the Vala, shock etched into his features.

"He really thinks _that_?!"

The Lord of Mandos nodded. "Apparently."

Mairon was indignant. "That's ridiculous! By the time we argued, I had already made up my mind to leave! I tried saying goodbye to him without it being obvious that was what I was doing. He-he took it as me rejecting him…" Mairon gave a dejected sigh, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We argued – badly. I said things I regret, and he-he walked away. I-I haven't seen or spoken to him since."

At the thought of his big brother blaming himself for Mairon's flaws, tears filled the younger Maia's eyes. Wrapping his arms around himself, Mairon tried to stop the tremors that accompanied them.

"Does-does he s-still hate me? You…you can blame y-yourself for…for something, and still…still h-hate the other p…person."

"I do not know the answer to that question, Mairon." Námo answered softly. "It is one only Olórin will be able to answer. However, from what Manwë has said, I find it very doubtful your brother hates you."

At those words, Mairon finally gave up trying to control his fragile emotions. He started crying in earnest, bitter memories of the hurt and anger from that day washing over him. Moments later, a feeling of gentle calmness and love surrounded him. The unexpected feelings helped calm his turbulent thoughts, though the tears continued.

Mairon looked up in surprise, to find Námo looking compassionately down at him. The Vala had moved from his chair at some point, scooping Mairon into his arms. He was being cradled in the Doomsman's lap, the Maia realised in shock, Námo's arms wrapped loosely around his body in a comforting embrace. While it was not the first time Námo had touched him, it was the first time the Vala had held him in his arms like a child. It was normally Lady Nienna who did that. Feeling another wave of bitter memories wash over him, Mairon gave up all pretence of calm, burying his head in the Vala's chest. Námo gently stroked his hair, rubbing the back of his neck comfortingly, but otherwise let him cry.

Eventually, Mairon started feeling better. The tears stopped, though he continued sobbing for some time, and he fully relaxed into Námo's caring embrace. When this happened, the Vala began humming a soft lullaby. Mairon felt his eyes sliding closed against his will. The hand massaging his head and neck was soft and soothing, and he realised he was very tired. He also felt totally _safe_. For the first time since… possibly ever. It was true many of his earliest memories were gone, but still…

* * *

Mairon blinked in disorientation. He didn't know where he was, or what had happened. He remembered being very tired; had he fallen asleep? …

"Easy, Little One. You're safe."

Lord Námo.

Mairon initially tensed, then relaxed upon the realisation he was with the Vala. As his eyesight cleared, the Maia began remembering what had occurred. He'd been talking to Námo about his brother, and the Vala had comforted him when he'd broken down. Was _still_ comforting him, in fact. Mairon realised he was still curled up on Námo's lap, safely cocooned in the Vala's embrace. Not feeling up to saying anything just yet, Mairon took a moment to just enjoy the sensations.

"Feeling better, Little One?"

Mairon nodded, not lifting his head from where it rested on Námo's chest, rubbing his eyes. They felt sore and gritty. Námo gently stilled his hands, settling two fingers upon the Maia's eyelids, healing the hurt with a light touch. Mairon sighed in relief as he settled back down.

"A little. Did I fall asleep?"

The Vala's tone was one of fond amusement, with no hint of anger or annoyance.

"Yes."

"Oh." He was still too tired to allow himself to think about the implications of that. Or to begin apologizing for monopolizing the Vala's time when he had much more important things to do. Or be _scared _because _he'd fallen asleep while he was supposed to be working. _"How long?"

"How long have you been sleeping, you mean?"

Mairon nodded. Námo hummed.

"Only a few hours. You have been pushing yourself too hard recently, Little One. Your body still needs rest."

"Oh."

Mairon lapsed into silence while he thought that over. Námo did not seem to mind. He simply shifted a little, making them more comfortable.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take up your time when you have other things to do."

Námo shook his head. His voice left no room for argument.

"_You_ are what I have to do right now, Mairon. My Maiar are my top priority when any of you need me. Unless there is a world-threatening crisis happening somewhere that only _I _can fix, you come first. You, the fëar, and my wife. Even my siblings come after you."

Mairon frowned. "But I'm not yours."

Námo's voice was calm. "Whose are you, then?"

Mairon lowered his eyes. "I'm…I'm no one's right now. I don't have a designated lord or lady to serve. I-I…You shouldn't have to –"

Mairon trailed off. The Vala sighed, beginning to rub soothing circles on the Maia's back.

"Mairon. I want you to listen to me carefully, and take to heart what I say. I know you don't have a designated Vala to serve right now, and I will never force you into anything. But, so long as you are in my care, I view you as one of my own. You were entrusted to me. While I am not your lord, I will still afford you the same care, love and protection I would give any who have taken oath to me. If that means cancelling other plans because you need me, then I will cancel other plans. Not that I really had any. I would probably have just sat in Mandos, brooding."

Mairon looked at the Vala in surprise. Had Námo just made a joke?

Seeing his look, the Vala almost smiled. Almost.

"You think you're the only one capable of brooding? I prefer to call it Contemplating Existence, but my dearest little brother insists I really brood. Nienna has taken his side. I've given up arguing the point."

Mairon blinked. "I-I haven't given it much thought."

"Good. Don't. Just know you're not inconveniencing me in the slightest. I'm here whenever you need me. If you ever want anything from me, even if it's just a hug, all you need do is ask."

This time, Mairon accepted the Vala's words. Snuggling back into the Vala's chest, he rested his cheek over Námo's heart.

"Okay."

Mairon felt Námo's approval through to the very core of his being, yet he still hesitated to speak. Running his fingers over the elaborate (and very sparkly) embroidery covering the top half of Námo's robe, the Maia took time to gather his thoughts. He was still not entirely convinced Lord Námo would truly want to stay with him, just for the sake of it. He supposed the best way to find out the truth was to ask. And, for once, the thought of asking for something from a Vala didn't fill him with dread. Just a touch of unease about what would happen if it was denied…

"Can…can we stay here for…for a while, please? I'm so comfortable…"

In response, Námo wrapped both arms more securely around him. The Vala then placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"Yes. We can stay here until you feel ready to move. You still haven't decided either, Little One. Take your time, but know you will have to face Olórin sooner or later. You cannot avoid him forever, however attractive that may seem."

Happily melting back into the Vala's embrace, Mairon thought about his brother. He knew Lord Námo was right; he could only put off seeing Olórin for so long. Though, the thought of seeing the older Maia didn't fill him with as much bitterness and pain like it had before – even given how they'd parted. And, if Olórin did indeed blamed himself for what had happened…

It took a while, but Mairon finally reached a decision.

"I will see my brother. But, can we please do it tomorrow? I – I want time to figure out how to do this. Or even the day after would work…"

Námo raised an eyebrow.

"Tomorrow it is then. Any longer," the Vala gave him a pointed look, "and you will be a nervous wreck of emotions. The sooner we do this, the better you'll feel."

Mairon swallowed.

"You think so?"

Námo nodded.

"I know so. Have some trust, Little One. If not in us, then in _Atar_ and his plans. He brought you back to us; I know he will give you the courage and strength to see this through. All you have to do is ask for it."

* * *

The next afternoon found Mairon pacing back and forth in one of the smaller sitting rooms in the living quarters of Mandos. In just a short while – really, at any moment – his brother would be arriving. Despite Lord Námo's assurance (and the time he'd spent hesitantly asking Eru for strength), he wasn't sure he was ready for this.

How would Olórin act? Would he be angry right at the start? Or, would he have to worry about something he said setting his brother off? Mairon was used to being yelled at and hated by others, but the thought of his own brother confirming the words he'd said so long ago was like a knife to his heart…

A hesitant knock on the door of the room made Mairon jump, his anxiety spiking. His heart pounded in his chest, everything in him telling him to get away, to leave before he was hurt. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He could do this. He _would_ do this. If only to please the Vala who'd been kinder to him than he deserved. He would do this because his brother deserved the closure. Olórin deserved the chance to yell and shout at him for all the pain Mairon had caused him.

He could do this. He could take it.

He swallowed once more, clenching his fists at his sides, before turning to face the door. However Olórin was when he came in, he would face him head-on.

He could do this.

"Come in."

He could do this…

The door opened and closed rather quickly, and the two brothers were left staring at each other for the first time in over three Ages. Olórin looked even more unsure about this meeting than Mairon felt. His gaze darted around the room, never resting on Mairon for longer than a few seconds, before skittering off to focus on nothing else.

The silence stretched into awkwardness. Something needed to be said, but Mairon was still trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. How does one start a conversation with a brother one left in anger and haven't spoken to in over three Ages?...

Thankfully, he didn't have to try and figure it out; Olórin suddenly breached the gap for him.

"How…" Olórin's voice cracked, and he took a second to clear his throat. "How – How are you?"

Mairon half-shrugged, wrapping his arms around himself. "I'm doing better. Lord Námo and Lady Vairë have been too kind."

"That's good." Olórin said, then winced. "That you're doing better at least. Not that you think Lord Námo and Lady Vairë have been too kind. Because they haven't – been too kind that is. They've been just the right amount, I'm sure." He winced again, clearly struggling to find something else to say.

The silence stretched out into awkwardness once more, neither brother truly looking at the other. Instead, they sneaked half-glances out of the corner of their eyes, ghosting their examination across the forms across from them. Scanning for…Mairon didn't even know what. But, he could feel the weight of his brother's stare, even when Olórin did not appear to be looking at him.

Once again, it was Olórin who broke the silence. "Mairon…" He took a step forward. Mairon hugged himself tighter and leant back, though he did not back away from his brother.

Olórin's gaze shattered even more at the reaction. "Mai," He continued in a smaller voice, "I'm sorry beyond words for what I did and said. Can – do you think – is there any way you can ever forgive me? Please?"

The copper-haired Maia was completely taken aback. Despite Námo telling him Olórin blamed himself for Mairon joining Melkor, he had not completely believed the Vala. He'd been bracing himself for anger. He'd been prepared for hate, for rejection, for the emotional pain either would undoubtedly cause. He was not prepared for…

…for this.

He bit his lip, taking a small step forward and lifting his head. "Olórin… there is nothing to forgive. I-I am the one who needs _your _forgiveness. I was _horrible _to you." He swallowed, willing himself to stay calm and not cry again. "I have regretted what I said every day since."

Olórin's brilliant blue eyes filled with tears, "When I heard you'd joined Melkor…" he bent his head, tears continuing to course down his cheeks. "I couldn't help feeling it was my words and actions that caused you to run away."

Mairon couldn't stop a snort at hearing that. His brother really did have a guilt complex. "Rubbish. Like you could have made me do something I didn't want to do. It never worked before, so what makes you think it would have worked then?"

Olórin swallowed. "Do you mean you _planned _to join him?"

Mairon shrunk back once more, all the feelings of disgust that Námo, Irmo, Vairë, Nienna, and everyone else had been working hard to help him put aside springing back in full force. But he squared his head, pushing those feelings away with difficulty. He'd made his decisions, and would take responsibility for them, no matter the outcome. If that required answering for his actions to his brother, so be it.

It was the least he could do.

"Yes, Olórin. I did." His voice was very quiet, but even. "And I joined him of my own accord. While he may have lured me in that direction through fake promises and poisonous lies," and oh, his words had been so sweet and full of promises, "he did not force me to join him, or do his will." He winced, remembering the command still scorched across his fëa, and how it'd been used to hurt and control him for so long. "Not in the beginning, at least."

Olórin stared at his brother. "Why? Why did you do it?"

"I've asked myself that same question many times since then."

For the first time since the conversation started, their eyes met for longer than a half-a-second. The deep pain in Olórin's soul shook Mairon; and he found he couldn't look away. _He _had done this; _he _had caused that look…

"You don't have a reason for what you did?" Olórin asked. Mairon could see a desire to know, to understand, clashing with his disgust at the thought of such an action. It all warred with Olórin's inherent belief and trust and faith in the goodness of the world – or, more specifically, the individuals in it.

His brother had always worn his heart on his sleeve. That hadn't changed in all their years of separation.

Mairon gave a weary nod. "Oh, I have plenty of reasons. But, in hindsight, they are all ridiculous. Nothing changes the fact I made some very ill-informed decisions. I fell for a handful of lies and false promises from a Vala who everyone _knew _was not to be trusted. Yet, I still chose to believe him. What happened is on me. Not you." Mairon took a step closer to his brother. "I've never blamed you for what happened, Olórin. I just regret my last words to you ended with you hating me. That was never something I wanted."

Olórin shook his head. "I don't hate you, Mairon. You are my brother; how could I hate you? I thought you hated me for what I said and did!"

Mairon sighed. "Well, I don't. I never have. You just summed it up yourself. I don't see how what you just said makes sense, even considering your absurd standards of logic. In fact, it was thoughts of _you_ that helped me get through."

Olórin frowned, confusion entering his blue eyes. "What do you mean?"

Mairon wrapped his arms around himself again. "Melkor – The last few Ages haven't been the best. Thinking about you – about how I needed to make everything up to you someday – gave me something to hold on to. If I hadn't had that, I may have given up long ago."

Olórin's face paled at that news. "Mairon, I –"

Mairon shook his head. "Please, don't, Olórin. It's – It's done. I can't… just. Please."

Olórin nodded, but his face was still pinched. After another minute of silence, he stepped forward again. "Can I hug you? Please?"

Mairon internally winced, but nodded. "Yes."

Once given permission, the older Maia threw himself at Mairon with enough force he sent him stumbling back a few steps. Olórin wrapped his arms around his brother, hugging him with a fierceness that took Mairon's breath away. After a shocked moment, the copper-haired Maia returned the hug with as much strength as he could manage. Mairon felt his own eyes misting over as Olórin's love encompassed him, and swallowed roughly.

"Let's sit down."

Olórin did not reply, but followed where his brother led, refusing to let go of him, even for a second. Once they were seated, the older Maia held onto Mairon like a lifeline, even as his tears continued to fall. Not sure what else to do, Mairon began rubbing soothing circles on Olórin's back, like Lord Námo had done yesterday for him. It had helped him feel better, so maybe it would help Olórin? The younger Maia decided it couldn't hurt trying.

Finally, Olórin's tears stopped, though he continued clinging to his brother. Mairon didn't think he was going to let go anytime soon. Which he was surprisingly alright with…

When Olórin had himself under control again, the older Maia gave Mairon an odd look.

"Why aren't you upset? You seem so…calm…about all this mess."

Mairon's lips twitched slightly at the bewildered look being directed at him. "I had my breakdown yesterday, brother. I spent hours sobbing into Lord Námo's chest. I really don't have many tears left."

Olórin forgot his tears for a moment, staring at his brother in shock. "You SOBBED into Lord NÁMO'S chest?"

Mairon blinked. "Yes."

Olórin opened and closed his mouth a few times. He seemed lost for words. Finally, he managed to string a sentence together. "He doesn't seem the cuddly sort. That's all." The silver-haired Maia finished rather lamely.

Mairon gave a wry smile, a hint of genuine amusement entering his eyes. He'd forgotten how easy Olórin was to impress.

"Looks can be deceiving, my brother. Don't let Lord Námo's impassive exterior fool you. There's a lot more to him than that, as I'm learning."

Olórin looked somewhere between shocked and sceptical, but nodded. At least that news had succeeded in banishing the last of his brother's tears, Mairon noted with relief.

He was starting to get over tears.

"So…how have you been?" Olórin asked. "Are – what have you been doing? Are you well-kept here? Welcomed?"

Mairon gave a small smile as he thought on his time in Mandos. Now his anxiety over his brother had calmed, he was able to give serious consideration to these questions.

"I - I am more than well-kept here." He began slowly. "Everyone has been more than welcoming. Lord Námo and Lady Vairë have ensured I have work I can do, and that everyone treats me well. I am fed and warm and clothed. I have everything I could need – everything I could ask for." He dipped his head a bit. "More than I could ask for; more than I thought I would ever have again. It's –more than I deserve."

Olórin frowned at the dark shadows present in his brother's eyes. "Why wouldn't you deserve to be happy and cared for? It's a basic right!"

Mairon swallowed, squaring his shoulders. "I'm here, Olórin. That is blessing enough from Eru. Now, tell me what you have been up to."

Olórin swallowed.

"Not much, apart from serving Lord Manwë and Lady Varda, doing whatever they require of me. How – how is your life here, Mairon? What is living in Mandos like? I always imagined it a gloomy place. But, if what I've seen in this room is any indication, that is not true. Is the whole place this…colourful?"

Mairon nodded. He laid his head on his brother's shoulders, before settled himself more comfortably on Vairë's soft and fluffy cushions.

"That is Lady Vairë's doing. The whole place is like this. And I'm not officially serving here. It would be more accurate to say I am an indefinite guest whom helps with a few things."

Olórin gave him a disbelieving look.

"You sobbed into Lord Námo's chest. And you say you're just a guest here?"

Mairon shrugged.

"I'm also here to heal. Or at least, to start healing. I was sceptical I _could_ be healed at first. But, it does seem to be working."

Olórin looked at his brother with steely determination. Mairon wasn't the only one in the family to be stubborn.

"What needs healing that is serious enough for you to sob into the chest of the grimmest of all the Valar, Mairon?"

His younger brother winced.

"Not now. Not here. You don't need to know all the details. And, I am not ready to face them myself just yet either."

Olórin looked at Mairon. The dark look still lurking in his little brother's eyes made him pause. The older Maia swallowed, before giving a slow nod of understanding.

"Okay. What would you like to talk about then?"

* * *

"It's all okay."

The gathered Valar collectively sighed in relief. Manwë spoke first.

"They are speaking?"

Námo nodded, his expression distant.

"Yes. And cuddling. There was no anger. They're both just relieved to have their brother back."

Nienna spoke.

"Now they can both finally begin that stage of their healing."

"Yes." Námo agreed. "Yes. They can."

* * *

**Warm, brotherly reunions are the best. And Námo is totally a teddy bear disguised as the Big Bad Wolf. You can't convince me otherwise.**


	5. Discussions

**Chapter 5: Discussions**

Mairon sighed heavily. He was bored, and tired of sitting perfectly still in one spot.

"Are you finished yet?"

"Almost. Hold still!"

Seeing it was the eighth time in the last hour he'd been told 'almost', the Maia resigned himself to sitting there for a good while yet. Seconds later, he winced as another handful of hair felt like it was being torn out of his scalp. He was so _never_ agreeing to this again.

Marilwë was giving Alassë (one of Námo's other Maiar; she served in Mandos dealing primarily with the fëar of mortal children) a lesson on how to do an intricate braided updo. She'd managed to wrangle Mairon into helping – or more apply put, into lending her his hair. It was not terribly thick but was nonetheless wavy and long enough to reach his hips unbound. "The ideal type of hair to perfect this style on," Námo's chief Maia had declared when she'd asked (bullied) Mairon into allowing his hair to be used. This style was not one that could be done on oneself, she said. And apparently, no one else with suitable hair was available right now.

Mairon now knew why that was the case. Next time Marilwë approached him about this, he planned on having other engagements as well.

So, that was how Mairon came to be seated on a cushion, having his hair pulled out by the handfuls. At least, that's what it felt like. Surely Marilwë could be a bit gentler, the copper-haired Maia thought with some resentment.

He liked his long hair. Now that it was healthy, he wanted to keep it that way. He'd had enough of his hair falling out while he was on Middle Earth. Lady Estë had said it was most likely due to the constant stress he'd been under (and the neglect he'd given it. In the grand scheme of things, ensuring his hair was healthy and well-cared for had not been high on his list of priorities). Given enough time, she was optimistic it would grow thick again.

"You said you were almost done, like, an hour ago."

Marilwë was unbothered by his whining.

"And I almost am. Now you twist these strands together like so…"

Mairon tuned out her talking. It wasn't like he had much interest in intricate braiding anyway. He'd always preferred his hair to be loose, or held back with a circlet or simple braids. Though he'd always tied it back in the forge, to keep it out of the way. After that one time it had caught on fire…

Despite himself, Mairon smirked at the memory. The look onUrunírë's face when he'd realised Mairon's hair was literally on fire had been _priceless_. While the dressing down he'd later received from Aulë for being irresponsible hadn't been pleasant, Mairon still remembered that incident with surprising fondness.

That was one good memory Morgoth hadn't taken from him. While there'd been times Mairon had wished the fallen Vala had just taken all the memories (having an odd good one here and there made the absence of the others more painful), he knew those few good ones were what'd prevented him from succumbing completely to the darkness. While Morgoth had most likely left them there to torment him, by doing so, he'd insured Mairon retained some semblance of self.

The irony of Morgoth sabotaging his own goal (having Mairon be just like him) in this way caused the Maia's lips to twitch upwards even more.

"What are you smirking about, Little One?"

Mairon looked up at Lord Námo, who'd casually walked into the room at some point without them noticing. The sudden movement caused Marilwë to curse as his hair was jerked out of her hands. Mairon's eyes widened in shock at what she said, even as his jaw dropped.

"Where on _earth_ did you learn to swear like THAT?!"

Námo huffed in what might have been laughter. Marilwë gave him an uneasy look as she answered Mairon.

"When he first arrived here, Fëanor would not shut up. And NONE of it was complimentary."

Mairon turned to stare at her. Giving no heed to the fact one of the unsecured braids started unravelling.

"You learnt to swear from _Fëanor_?"

Námo made another noise that could be interpreted as a laugh, but Mairon was too stunned to fully register it. Marilwë looked sheepish, ducking her head.

"Yes. He's very creative. I apologise, my lord. I shouldn't have said those things."

Námo gave her a look of fond amusement.

"You are forgiven, my daughter. Just try not to repeat them again. You're right; Fëanor's very creative. But, most of what he creates out of words is also not suitable for polite company to hear."

Mairon raised an eyebrow, keeping his expression as close to neutral as possible. "That must be the first time in my life I've been called 'polite company'."

Alassë, who'd managed to keep a straight face up to this point, couldn't stop herself giggling at the guileless look on Mairon's face when he said that. The giggles quickly became full-blown laughs that had her doubling over. Her laugher was infectious, and soon everyone else was laughing along with her.

Even Mairon.

* * *

Námo felt love sweep through him, as he watched his Maiar with a fond smile. Despite what others believed, he did know how to smile. He just didn't find a reason to very often.

When the chaos had calmed down (and the unravelled braids had been redone and secured in place to Marilwë's satisfaction), Námo addressed Mairon.

"Mairon. I've been talking with Aulë. Now you are so much better, he has asked to see you."

At hearing that, the copper-haired Maia visibly withdraw into himself, looking at the ground. "Do I have to see him?"

At a single glance from their lord, Alassë and Marilwë blinked away, giving them privacy.

Námo took a step closer to Mairon, sitting on a cushion across from him so he could look the Maia in the eyes. "No. Like with Olórin, it's your choice what you do. I won't make you do anything. But, also like Olórin, you'll have to face Aulë eventually. You'll have to face everyone eventually, Little One."

Mairon sighed. "I know. But… Lord Aulë…"

The Maia swallowed. His voice did not rise above a whisper.

"I-I betrayed him. I took the skills he taught me in good faith, and used them for evil. I not only betrayed him, but all he believed in. And I did all that _before_ Morgoth took my free will, so I have no excuses for any of it. I-I…"

Mairon couldn't finish what he wanted to say. Námo knelt further down to be at eye level with the seated Maia. He disliked towering over his Maia in any way. And, right now, he counted Mairon as his. His stay here may be temporary, but that didn't mean Námo would treat him any different to the others in his service.

He'd already made his stance on that clear, and wasn't about to change his mind.

"Yes, you did betray him. And you two will have to sort that out. However, he is also at fault here. He failed to look after you like he should have."

Mairon looked up at him. The confusion Námo's words caused was clear in his eyes.

"What do you mean 'he failed'? He didn't fail anything. There were just always more important things he had to do."

Námo nodded.

"Yes, there were. So many important things to do, he neglected looking after his Maiar, the most important task of all. Tell me, Mairon. How often did you see Aulë after we came to Almaren? See him, as in he would come and work with you and the others, not just see him around?"

The Maia had to think for a while to answer that.

"I'm not sure. Time was different with the lamps. But, it probably wouldn't have been unusual for a week to pass without him talking to, or even acknowledging, me. Except to give an order about something. I'm sure it was the same for the others; a few mentioned similar things. We – we got used to not seeing him often."

Námo gently took hold of the Maia's hand where it was resting on his knee.

"And therein lies the problem. Aulë, whether he intended it or not, let the bond between you weaken. Given enough time, it weakened to the point where you turned to someone else to give you what you craved. Let me guess. Melkor promised to give you affection, and said he would always notice and appreciate you and what you did?"

Mairon stared at him in pure shock.

"How-how do you know? Those…were almost his exact words."

Námo gave a sad sigh.

"Oh, dear child. It wasn't hard to guess. You are a Maia. Wanting to please and be appreciated by a Vala is a fundamental part of your nature."

Mairon looked down.

"Despite the promises in the beginning, Melkor despised that part of me. He gave me the powers he did to try and stamp them out. He called my desire to be loved weak and foolish. He-he wanted me to be as strong and unfeeling as he was. But I couldn't _do_ that, no matter how hard I tried. It-it hurt, more so than almost anything he did to me. So, I learnt to hide my emotions from him. Showing them in his presence only led to punishments. Emotions are a sign of weakness, and he wouldn't tolerate weakness in his thralls."

While all this was said in an emotionless voice, Námo easily detected the tremor behind the Maia's words.

"Wanting to be loved and appreciated isn't a weakness, Mairon. It's part of your very nature. You _need_ to be loved to be happy and content. That was what _Atar_ intended when he created you."

Mairon looked at the Vala with a frown.

"Really?"

Námo nodded. His voice left no room for argument.

"Yes. _Atar_ knew, however powerful we were, that we would never be able to achieve what we needed to in Eä without help. His solution was to create you Maiar. He ensured you desired to be loved to teach us about love, and to help us learn care and compassion towards those weaker in strength than us. Were you never told this?"

Mairon shook his head. "No. I always thought my desire to be loved was a flaw – a weakness. None of the other Maiar seemed to struggle with it as I did. So, I-I tried to supress it."

Námo felt deep sadness enter him at hearing the Maia's confession. "My poor child. Come here, Mairon."

The Doomsman was pleased when the Maia did not hesitate to slide off the cushion into his embrace. Since their conversation about Olórin some weeks prior, Mairon had lost the last of his fear of Námo. He was not worried about any of Námo's Maiar anymore either, often going on picnics or just hanging out with them. He was still shy around Vairë and her Maiar, but he was no longer scared of them. Overall, he was much more confident than he had been previously.

His improving relationship with his brother was also helping his confidence, Námo knew. Olórin came to Mandos every couple of days to visit with Mairon; though, sometimes they would meet in Lórien. Námo had no idea what they talked about, but the visits always left the younger Maia smiling.

He was healing. It was slow, but it was happening.

The physical contact settled Mairon down, like Námo knew it would. The Maia rested his head on the Vala's chest with a contented sigh.

"This is nice."

The Vala rubbed his back, causing Mairon to melt into him even more. He was practically purring in contentment, the Doomsman noted with some amusement.

"I'm glad I can give you the love you need, Mairon. The love you should have been given from the beginning. A love Aulë failed to realise you needed a physical reminder of until it was too late. He does love you, Mairon, in his own way, and he cares about you deeply. We all do. Loving and caring for you Maiar is a part of our nature. Aulë just has a harder time showing physical affection then some others do."

Mairon looked at Námo. "Wanting to look after us is part of _your_ nature?"

The Doomsman nodded. "Yes. Though we're all driven strongly to do that, some of us are better at showing it than others. But we all love you, Mairon, and care about you. Never doubt that."

Mairon swallowed. "Am I strong enough, do you think?"

"To see Aulë?" Námo asked gently.

Mairon nodded, looking down at his hands. "I don't want to fall apart in his presence. I-I've shown enough weakness in front of him."

Námo, realising Mairon didn't want to disgrace himself further in front of his former lord (he didn't have much pride left, but that he did he clutched onto with the desperation of someone grasping at straws to stay afloat in a stormy sea), hummed thoughtfully.

"Yes. I believe you are. Aulë isn't out to target you, child. He was deeply upset by what Morgoth did to you, and blames himself for everything."

Mairon's head shot up. "Really? Why does everyone feel the need to blame themselves for _my_ decisions and actions? Like anyone could have stopped me doing something I made up my mind about!"

Námo sighed. "And you _are_ responsible for making those decisions. However, it's _our_ fault you didn't receive what you needed to feel safe and happy here. That you felt you_ had_ to follow Morgoth to get what you needed to be happy falls on our shoulders. It is our failing, not yours."

Mairon shook his head. "It wasn't just that. He promised me many other things. Power, prestige, a chance to experiment with creating things beyond the scope of what Lord Aulë would do… I was attracted by the prospect of all this. He-he made it all seem so enticing; not the least scary or evil."

The Maia sighed, cuddling further into the safety Námo presented. This was becoming a habit, the Vala thought with gentle amusement.

"Or, maybe I just ignored the warning signs, because I wanted these things so badly. Things I knew I would not get if I'd stayed. Melkor always said I had an inherent darkness in me. That was why he wanted me."

"In case it escaped your notice, he wasn't renowned for telling the truth."

Mairon grimaced. "I know; but I think this _was_ the truth. Is the truth still. Even before he did _that_ to me, I would often find enjoyment in what he did. Even though I knew it was wrong, seeing him create things that I would never have _imagined_ possible…"

The Maia sighed again.

"I don't know what is truth, and what is lies, anymore. The lines between what is _him_ and what is _me_ were blurred a long time ago."

Námo knew that. The brief look at the Maia's memories during his trial had told him more than words ever could. However, hearing Mairon admit it himself was encouraging. If they were to ever heal the hurts, freeing the Maia from Melkor's influence, Mairon had to acknowledge it existed to begin with.

"We'll help you figure it out again, Mairon. That is part of the reason your powers are bound – so you don't have to deal with what he did. Not until you are ready. Given the glimpse we saw, it's not going to be easy for any of us."

The Maia nodded in agreement.

"Yes. I don't know how to undo the bindings on my core. Even if I gently poke them, the pain is almost unbearable. I don't know if I will ever be able to bear another Vala in my mind either. Yet, that is probably the only way they will ever be undone."

Upon hearing the hopelessness in those words, Námo wondered how plausible it was to bring Melkor back from the Void. In light of all he'd learnt since the fallen Vala was banished there, his sentence now seemed too merciful.

"That's why we are healing you, Mairon. It's our hope that, one day, you will indeed be strong enough. And, that you will also trust us enough to allow us to remove his influence from your soul."

Mairon cuddled into him even more, closing his eyes.

"I do trust _you_. Just…not in my mind. Not yet anyway."

Námo felt his heart skip a beat at the honest declaration of trust from a Maia who had very good reasons not to trust any Vala ever again.

"Thank you, Mairon. That – means a lot to me."

The Maia gave a nonchalant shrug, but Námo detected he was greatly pleased.

"You've been nice to me from the beginning. Ever since I first woke, you were calm and honest and looked after me. Marilwë told me you've never lost your temper at any of the Maiar, nor have you ever raised your voice or hand in anger towards any of us. Melkor…he delighted in making those under his control suffer, and was triggered by the slightest things. You, however, are steady and predictable. No matter what. It makes me feel safe. I-I have never really felt safe before. Not even when I served L-Lord Aulë…"

Námo kissed the top of Mairon's head. The Maia's words had greatly affected him, and the Doomsman renewed his determination to protect and heal this child. No matter how inadequate for the job he felt, he would never show it. After what Mairon had said about his predictability making him feel safe, there was no way Námo was going to do anything to put that trust in jeopardy. No matter how he personally felt.

Besides, being overly emotional wasn't in his nature.

"That was not Aulë's intent, Mairon. I know for a fact he had no idea you felt this way towards him. He was deeply upset when he saw your memories of him. Yavanna was as well. She started crying in the middle of the council, which has never happened before."

Mairon's head shot up.

"Really? But she always ignored me! I thought she didn't care. I thought _nobody _cared."

Námo gave a silent sigh. Mairon might be healing, but he still had a very long way to go.

"We do care about you, Mairon. And, I'd really like you to meet with Aulë. Ever since you came into my care, he's been pestering me at least once a week for an update on your progress."

Mairon looked at him in surprise.

"Really? He's been keeping tabs on how I'm going?"

Námo nodded.

"Yes. He cares about you and regrets what happened. Out of all of us, with the exception of Manwë, Aulë was perhaps the most affected by Melkor's treachery. In more ways than one. Despite what he says, I don't think he's ever really moved on from what happened back then."

Mairon bowed his head.

"_I_ haven't moved on from what happened. I'm not the same person I was then. And I can never be that person again. I'm too changed. I…don't know who I am now. Or what I can do to try and fix what I broke when I left."

"Consenting to meeting with Aulë, and listening to what he has to say without judging, will go a long way towards helping to fix things, Mairon."

The Maia turned hopeful eyes to him.

"Really? If I-I meet with Lord Aulë, it will help fix things? Just a meeting?"

Námo nodded.

"Yes. If you are ever to heal, you can't fear us, Mairon. Any of us. And, while we don't expect you to be close to everyone, we want you to at least trust that none of us would ever hurt you like Morgoth did. We want you to feel safe in our presence, no matter what happens."

Mairon didn't break eye contact, even as he gave a nervous swallow. However, this time his voice remained steady.

"I would like to meet with Lord Aulë."

Námo gave him a gentle smile. He couldn't help it. Mairon's return smile was hesitant, but thoughtful.

"You have a nice smile. Why don't you smile more?"

Námo looked amused.

"Smiling does not come naturally to me. Like praise is not something Aulë finds easy to give, I don't find it in me to openly express emotions like a smile very often. Very well. I will arrange a meeting with him. Does this evening work for you?"

Mairon looked panicked.

"So soon?"

"Yes. The sooner it happens, the less time there is for you to fret beforehand, Little One."

Marion sighed. He couldn't dispute_ that_ logic.

"Okay. But can I _please_ have my hair out for it? I really don't like this topknot-thing."


	6. Lord Aulë

**Chapter 6: Lord Aulë**

Aulë sat in Námo and Vairë's mansion in Valmar, trying not to panic. Trying being the operative word. He wasn't being very successful at the attempt.

In just a few moments, he was going to speak to the Maia he'd failed so badly. The Maia Melkor had swayed to his side while Aulë had been too busy and blind to notice what was happening under his nose. The Maia who'd consequently suffered under Melkor's treachery – who was _still_ suffering.

Given all this, Aulë didn't know what to expect. He had no idea how Mairon was going to react; of what he would say or do. Or even if the Maia would hate him for his neglect.

That last thought terrified the Smith more than any of the others.

He felt it the moment Námo arrived. The other Vala's presence was hard to ignore, even when you were in a different room. While he couldn't feel Mairon, he knew the Maia was with the Doomsman. He still wasn't allowed anywhere outside of Mandos or parts of Lórien without a Valar escort, not that he had the ability to think himself places right now. That ability was bound up with his other powers, thanks to the necklace Aulë himself had made.

At the moment, the Maia was, to all intents and purposes, even less powerful than the Elder.

The Smith nervously swallowed, eyes darting to the small box he'd placed on the table. If everything went well, hopefully its contents would help him begin mending the hurts he'd caused one who had been entrusted to his care. If things went badly…

Well, if things went badly, he probably wouldn't even have an opportunity to get close to opening what he'd carried here with him.

A knock on the door snapped him back into the present.

"Come in."

Aulë didn't let his conflicted emotions show when Mairon entered. The Maia came to stand in front of him, bowing low to give him the obeisance due to a Vala he wasn't pledged to. Then, he shifted into parade rest, dropping his gaze submissively.

Having not seen him since he'd been sentenced over two and a half years prior, Aulë noted with relief that Mairon looked much better than he had then. His hair was shiny and free of tangles, cascading down his back in copper waves. He looked well rested, his fana wasn't so dreadfully thin, and his eyes were brighter than they had been.

Compared to what they'd used to be, however, they were still very dull. Like tarnished gold, Aulë thought. Nothing like the molten gold he remembered them having been. Realising he'd just been staring at the Maia ever since he'd entered (and that, as the seconds had passed, Mairon's shoulders had gotten tenser and tenser), Aulë knew he should say something. It was clear Mairon was waiting for him to speak first.

The problem was, he had no idea where to start.

"Mairon. I – I'm sorry."

The Maia looked up at him with a frown. Even seated, the Smith was still a good bit taller than his former Maia. Mairon was not very tall.

"For what? I'm the one who should be apologising to you. I betrayed you and everything you hold dear…" Mairon looked down again, hunching his shoulders. "I'm sorry, my Lord. More than I can ever express. I-I know I deserve it, but-but…please, don't hate me. I – I've had enough of hate."

Aulë could feel his heart breaking. Keeping control of his emotions, so he did not break down and howl, suddenly became a real struggle.

"I don't hate you, Mairon. I never have. I've been angry at you, yes, and frustrated, and disappointed, and I did hate what you did. But, I've never hated you."

Mairon did not lift his head.

"How could you not hate me for what I did? _I_ hate me for what I did."

With that declaration, Aulë felt he was on more solid ground. As awful as it sounded, self-hate and self-blame from the Maia, he knew he could deal with better than hatred and blame directed at himself.

"Why do you hate yourself so, child? You did not do everything of your own free will. You cannot be held responsible for anything that happened after what _He_ did to you."

Mairon still refused to look at him.

"But I can be held responsible – should be held responsible – for what I did before that happened. Before that, I did enough evil by my own will to still hate myself. And it was at that time that I betrayed you."

Aulë swallowed, the sting of the betrayal flaring up.

"Yes, you did. And I have to ask…Why, Mairon? Why did you do it? Where did I go so wrong that you left me, to join my enemy?"

Aulë was stunned when, without warning, the Maia dropped to his knees. Mairon trained his eyes on the ground at the Smith's feet, lowering his head further and hunching his shoulders inward, making himself appear even smaller and more submissive. He'd _never_ done that before. Reprimands had always been met with a cheeky grin and an I-don't-care attitude. Aulë had found it irksome at times, how Mairon had refused to take things seriously.

Now, looking at the silent Maia kneeling subserviently in front of him, Aulë felt the ground had dropped out from under his feet. Just how deep had Morgoth's abuse gone, to turn the happy, smiling, refusing-to-take-things-seriously Maia he remembered into the silent, broken creature in front of him?

Aulë realised, with a sick feeling, he was probably better off not knowing the answer to that.

"Why are you kneeling? Get up, child; you don't have to kneel to me."

The Maia lifted his head at those words, though he remained on his knees. His eyes glistened suspiciously, but his voice was steady, without a hint of a tremor.

"I've asked myself why I did what I did many times, and still have no answer. I am sorrier than I can ever say for all I did. I know I don't deserve it, but…"

The Maia swallowed, bowing his head once more. When he spoke again, it was in a tone that was not above a whisper. "Can you ever forgive me, my Lord? After all the evil I have done?"

Winning an internal argument with himself, Aulë reached out, placing a gentle hand on the Maia's slim shoulder. The action caused an involuntary shiver to run through his fana, though otherwise Mairon gave no visible reaction. Everything about this Maia was slim and delicate, and always had been. Mairon had always been very striking to look at in fana, especially when compared to Aulë's other Maiar. Most of them had taken on much larger and stronger looking fanar, forgoing delicacy for muscles. Though Mairon's relatively small stature had hidden an impressive physical strength back when he'd been Aulë's. The only thing not small about him was his personality. That had always been larger-than-life.

However, knowing what he now did, the Smith couldn't help wondering how much of it had been genuine. How much had actually been a front, an attempt by an insecure and conflicted Maia to hide his true feelings and emotions from everyone, even his sworn lord?

"I'm not your lord anymore, Mairon. Not just because you rejected me," the words caused Mairon to flinch hard, but Aulë continued without missing a beat, "but because I failed you. In light of that, we both failed in our oaths to each other."

Mairon looked up at him, wearing an unreadable expression.

"Why does everyone feel the need to blame themselves for what I did? Olórin, you…_I _am the one who made those decisions. _I_ am the one who chose to believe Melkor. _I_ am the one who couldn't be content with what I had. _I_ am the one who wanted more. _I _am the one who betrayed you all, running away. What happened afterwards is on _me_. If I hadn't joined Melkor…"

Mairon dropped his head again. He suddenly seemed exhausted, his voice dull and emotionless.

"If I hadn't joined him…then he would never have bent me to his will like he did. Perhaps, if that hadn't happened, the trees would still be alive. Even if he'd still destroyed them, he wouldn't have had a ready fortress and an army waiting for him on Middle Earth when he returned. If I hadn't joined him, the lamps might even still exist, though I did not aid him knowingly in destroying them. He tricked me into giving him the necessary information, after earning my trust. But, even unknowingly, I still aided him. I know you mourned their loss."

Aulë looked grief-stricken at the knowledge Mairon had aided in the destruction of one of his greatest creations. But the Maia was not finished.

"The inhabitants of Middle Earth probably wouldn't have suffered as much as they did if I hadn't been there either. He was very lazy when it came to doing his own dirty work. He might have given the orders, but it was I who carried out his directions to the letter. It was _I_ whom elves and mortals alike cursed and feared. They called me Unfeeling One, Cruel One, Abhorred One. They could not touch Melkor, and so heaped their hate and fear on me. They had no idea I hated and feared him also, even more then they hated and feared me."

Aulë nodded.

"That is understandable Mairon. He violated the very core of your being. He smothered your inner light, pouring his own evilness and darkness into you. You were powerless to resist him, or his will."

Mairon shook his head in disagreement.

"Not at first, I wasn't. I was with him a fair time before he did that. And I delighted in the wonderous things he made." The Maia's eyes grew distant for a moment. "The first time I saw lava spew out of a newly formed volcano, the first time I saw the magnificence of underground caverns with gleaming black walls, the first time I saw the dragons – creatures of fire and earth like me…it made me want more. Made me want to know more. Made me want to create more wonderous things. Made me want to push the boundaries of what I knew were right and wrong. It was intoxicating and addictive. The more I tasted it, the greater my desire to learn more became."

Understanding and compassion filled Aulë. "Mairon, you shouldn't be ashamed of those things. There is nothing inherently wrong in delighting in those things. They – Morgoth hasn't used them correctly – but to enjoy seeing new creations and to wonder at them and wish to copy them are feelings Ilúvatar's placed in us all. I myself have been amazed at the volcanos. What changed, though? What replaced that wonder?"

Mairon's whole body shuddered, as he closed his eyes in pain at the memory.

"I…grew uncomfortable with his methods and ideals as time went on. I began realising he wasn't all he'd said he was. Yet, I still wanted to know more, so made excuses to myself for his actions. It wasn't until I saw him twist those beautiful and wondrous creatures into what would later become known as orcs…" Mairon swallowed, clenching his hands into fists reflexively "…I-I realised then that his actions had gone beyond what I could excuse. That violating, twisting, and corrupting what was already perfectly created by Eru went beyond creating new wonders. Melkor was directly challenging and rebelling against our father and the whole purpose of our being in Eä. I could not condone that."

Aulë could have passed for a statue.

"What happened next?"

Marion sighed.

"I tried to run away; I failed. I'd realised by then you were right with what you said and did. That, though I once thought you too cautious and dull, you always did what was _right_ for the world, and for those we were to protect. Regardless of how boring they were, none of your creations had caused the harm his did. When Melkor found out I was thinking of going back to you…he was less than pleased. You saw that memory. You know what happened. How he bound my fëa to my fana, physically torturing me until my strength gave out. Before twisting and corrupting my very mind and soul until I was powerless to do anything but carry out his will."

"Yet, you have broken free of him." Aulë encouraged.

Mairon shook his head in disagreement.

"No, he is still there." He frowned. "I overcame him, and the Command he placed in me, once – briefly, oh so briefly – when I went to Eönwë. But that didn't last. And now…" he reached up to finger the necklace around his neck. "now, he's only quiet because of the necklace you made. It keeps his influence bound where it cannot control me. Otherwise, I-I am still his slave." He ducked his head once more. "As soon as this is removed, if the Command is still there, if my fëa is still bound to obey it, it will be only a matter of time before I am forced to follow his orders once more. Only a matter of time before I lose myself, becoming what he intended."

"Oh, Mairon." Aulë reached out his other hand, gently drawing Mairon to his feet. The Maia responded easily. Too easily, the Smith felt. He wondered if Mairon could've resisted his will, even if he'd wanted to. Melkor's influence might be bound, but his abuse had left an indelible mark on the Maia's very identity.

"I told you not to kneel to me, child. Come. Sit."

Mairon continued looking down, though he allowed himself to be guided to sit in a chair opposite the Smith. Once he was seated, Aulë picked up the small box he'd been contemplating earlier, holding it out to him.

"This is for you."

Mairon glanced up at him quickly. Then, he looked back down, staring at the box for a long moment. Finally, he reached out and took it. At Aulë's encouraging nod, the Maia lifted the lid, peering inside.

His breath caught in his throat.

Aulë swallowed. "Do you recognise it?"

Mairon lifted the poorly forged gold ring out of the box, handling it like it was the most precious thing ever.

"This- this was the first piece of jewellery I ever made?" The lilt in his tone made the statement a question, as he glanced up at Aulë for confirmation.

Aulë's anger burned once more. Had Morgoth left nothing from before intact? "Yes, that is correct."

Mairon turned the object over in his hands, staring at it. His hands shook, as his eyes narrowed in thought. "You… helped me. You told me…"

The Maia swallowed.

"You… told me I did a good job with it. I-I thought you were just being nice; all I could see was the flaws. It didn't hold a candle to what you always made." His voice, hesitant at first, was gaining more confidence the more he talked. "I wanted to melt it down and try again. But-but you told me…you told me those flaws were what made it different to any other ring. That flaws in some form were unavoidable. The best thing we could do, you said, was to turn the flaws into something we would be proud of, something that would make our creations unique."

Aulë's smile was gentle, even as he felt his throat tighten.

"Yes. I did say that. And I meant every word, Mairon. Even now, while I aim for perfection in what I make, I still often fall short of the mark. Others might not be able to see the flaws, but I can. But, that doesn't make things any less beautiful. Flaws only add to the beauty, Mairon. If you let them. That's true for more than just jewellery."

Vala and Maia sat in silence for a while. Mairon kept turning the ring over and over in his fingers. Finally, he spoke.

"Lord Aulë?"

"Yes, Mairon?"

"Why did you keep this? I remember you talked me out of melting it down, but… how come you still have it?"

Aulë sighed.

"Mairon, I kept all of it. Everything you left in my forge, I kept. I still have your special tools, your bits of jewellery, and those sketches you were always making and leaving scattered over every available surface."

Mairon sat up.

"I left sketches scattered over every available surface?"

Aulë nodded.

"Yes, pages and pages of them. I always wondered how you managed to generate so many, while keeping up with the work I gave you. That was when we lived in Almaren. You do not remember it?"

Mairon shook his head, eyes darkening momentarily before resigned acceptance took its place. "No. Melkor must have destroyed that memory."

Aulë closed his eyes in pain at hearing that, but did not comment.

"I'm not sure why I kept everything, to be honest. I just couldn't bear throwing your things away. Even after we moved from Almaren and I created a new forge – your leaving still left a hole. I guess I held onto hope that, one day, you would come back to me. That, one day, you would want to use your tools again."

Mairon's shoulders shook, and he didn't lift this head.

"You wanted me to come back? Even – after what I did?"

Aulë nodded.

"Yes. I hoped and prayed to Eru that, one day, you would return. After the Battle of the Powers, I looked for you in Utumno. I searched high and low in those caverns, but never found even a trace of evidence you'd been there. I even went so far as to question Melkor about you. But he just laughed, telling me you had run, because-"

Aulë swallowed.

"-because you were devoted to him now. That he'd given you what you craved, and that you'd sworn life-long fealty to him in return. It-it crushed me to hear that, Mairon."

The Maia raised his head to look at Aulë. His cheeks were wet.

"He lied, like he always did. I swore no such thing, ever. I'd sworn no oaths of fealty when I tried leaving him. And, after he finished with me, there was no need of one. He ensured there was no need. He knew I couldn't betray him. He made _sure_ I couldn't betray him. I was too valuable a slave to allow to slip through his fingers."

"We will free you from his influence, Mairon. I promise."

The Maia's shoulders slumped.

"How? His will is _part_ of my own being – he wove them so close even I hardly know the difference any longer. If_ I_ can't determine the difference, how will anyone else? The mere thought of anyone touching my mind terrifies me, let alone allowing them access to my core…"

Aulë's voice was firm, leaving no room for disagreement.

"We will find a way. We are patient. Even if we must wait Ages, until you are ready to allow us in, we won't give up on you. _I_ won't give up on you, Mairon. Despite everything, you have come back to us. I won't fail you a second time."

Mairon sighed.

"You're determined to blame yourself for what happened, aren't you?"

"Yes. Because I know at least part of it was my fault."

They were silent for a long time. Mairon continued absently playing with the ring, turning it over and over in his fingers. Aulë just watched his ex-Maia with a gentle gaze. He still couldn't quite believe Mairon was sitting in front of him. After all these years, Aulë's desperate prays to their father had been answered.

Mairon had come home.

He was damaged, yes, broken even, and would never be the same as he once was. But he was back, which was enough for Aulë. They had infinite time to heal him, to undo the damage Melkor had left. And they _would _succeed.

Aulë would make sure of it.

"Lord Aulë, might – might I be able to have my sketches back? Please? I would like to see what I used to design. Seeing I can't remember."

This last line was said without any bitterness on Mairon's part, but Aulë felt very bitter at hearing it. To not only violate a Maia's core and soul, but to enter their mind by force and destroy their memories…Aulë swallowed.

"Of course, Mairon. I don't have them here; they are back in my quarters at the forge. But, I can give them to Námo the next time I see him?"

Mairon nodded.

"Yes please. Just the sketches. I-I don't want to see the other things. Not yet."

Aulë nodded in acceptance.

"They're not going anywhere. Just let me know when you want them."

Mairon almost smiled.

"I will."

After another awkward pause, Mairon spoke.

"What happens now?"

Aulë looked at him.

"That, depends on what you would like to happen. I don't hate you, Mairon. I never have. And, after knowing what happened to you, I have fully forgiven you for everything you did before. I know one of your conditions is to stay in Mandos until Námo or Manwë decide otherwise…but Mairon. If you ever would like to spend some time in the forge, all you need do is ask. You are welcome there anytime."

Mairon looked up.

"Really? If I want to make something, you'll let me?"

Aulë nodded.

"Yes. Anytime, just let me know."

"What about your other Maiar? I – I never got on very well with most of them. They never seemed to like me."

Aulë closed his eyes briefly.

"I know, and that was, _is_, another failing on my part. After you left, I started working on fixing the rivalry and hostility I wasn't aware was there. It's much better now, Mairon. Though the rivalry is still there, it's not hostile most of the time. It's more akin to friendly competition. And I am their lord. If I declare you can use my forge, you can use my forge. If anyone has a problem with it, no one is stopping them from being elsewhere."

Mairon's voice was small, like it had been at the trial. "I don't want to cause enmity between you and your Maiar. I'm not worth it."

Aulë's face showed deep pain.

"Let me worry about that, Mairon. All you need to worry about is healing. Okay?"

The Maia sighed.

"Okay. I will try. But…I…it's just…everything is so confusing right now. I just…don't know what to do."

"Things will improve Mairon. You're already doing better. After everything that's happened to you, we would be more worried if you _weren't_ affected."

Mairon did not reply to that, but a small smile played at his lips. A comfortable silent descended on them. Finally, Aulë stirred, looking at the Maia regretfully.

"I am afraid I must go now. Duty calls. Maybe we could meet again some other time? Maybe next time, it could even be in the forge?"

Aulë looked hopefully at Mairon, who just shrugged.

"Perhaps."

Aulë sighed, not letting the indifference put him off.

"You'll be ready one day, Mairon. I know it."

Mairon gave him a hesitant smile. Even though it was only small and looked half-forced, the Smith knew it was genuine.

"We'll see."


	7. Interlude

**Chapter 7: Interlude**

Námo was happy.

Looking down the long tables filled with happy, chattering Maiar filled him with peace and contentment. Vairë, too, was smiling, observing their children with pride and love. Seeing Mairon laugh at something that was said, before leaning over to whisper in Marilwë's ear (the pair were seated next to each other as they typically were when at meals together), served to increase Námo's good mood tenfold.

Meeting his wife's eyes from across the room, the Lord of Mandos shared a smile with his Lady. She was thinking the same thing.

The copper-haired Maia was doing so much better these days. He'd recently returned to Mandos from a short stay at Nienna's abode, a stay that had done him a world of good. Since coming back, Mairon had been more relaxed and much calmer, taking what came his way with less anxiety then he'd previously possessed. He was also smiling more. Námo felt warmth spread through him whenever Mairon laughed, or even giggled. Both of which were becoming more frequent actions these days.

It was now almost three years since Mairon had been placed in Námo's care. During that time, the Doomsman had seen huge progress. The Maia in the dining hall with them tonight was a far cry from the terrified and mistrustful child Námo had first met, and that had been remanded into his care. These days, Mairon had more confidence in himself (confidence that had been there even before his stay with Nienna), and trusted Námo especially with an intensity that surprised the Vala. After all that had happened to him at the hands of a Vala (albeit a corrupt one), Námo wouldn't have been surprised if it'd taken decades to earn the Maia's trust.

Instead, it had taken less than three years for Mairon to come to trust him. Even more baffling, was the fact _he_ had spent way less time working with Mairon then Nienna or Irmo had. Yet, it was Námo he'd come to trust first. Now the Maia not only trusted him, but also sought security and unconditional love from him.

Both of which the Vala was glad to give.

Mairon's desire for security and love was very strong. Stronger than any other Maia Námo had ever known. He'd often wondered if that was due to what Mairon had been through, or if that desire was the root of the problems to begin with.

Mairon was desperate to please both him and Vairë in any way he could. The slightest word of praise (or even acknowledgment) for his effort made those still too-dull golden eyes brighten. Námo had found out a long time ago that Mairon would work himself into the ground in the hopes of earning even a _hint_ of approval and praise from a Vala. That propensity had been the topic of many conversations – not arguments, (though Námo would have been overjoyed to have the Maia argue back at him), and decidedly _not _scolding's – with Mairon. While they were still struggling to break him of that habit, they were slowly making some progress in that direction.

Back when he'd first started working in Mandos, the Maia had collapsed on more than one occasion from over-exerting himself on a task he'd been given. Despite it being too much for him, he'd ignored his fana's limits, giving no regard to his own wellbeing. He'd been determined to complete the job he'd been given, and make the Valar happy.

That hadn't happened in many months now. Partially because the Maia was so much stronger than he had been then, and partially because Mairon knew it didn't please Námo (or anyone else) if he over-exerted himself. After almost three years of looking after the formally-abused Maia, the Doomsman now better understood why Melkor had targeted Mairon to begin with. Not only had his abilities been unusual (having mastery of two elements), but the desires in Mairon would, even now, be very easy to manipulate to one's own ends. Not that Námo would dream of doing that to anyone. But, the Maia's former master had not held the same beliefs.

And Morgoth had been a true master at manipulating. Instead of Mairon's desires being gently nurtured and moulded into something beautiful, they'd been cruelly abused, beaten, and taken advantage of. His very nature as a Maia had been turned against him; his innocence and good desires used to corrupt him.

The Maia's age at the time hadn't helped. Through much talking with the other Valar, Námo had long since realised Mairon had to be one of the youngest of those to descend into Eä. Talking with Olórin seemed to confirm this. From what the other Maia said, it seemed Mairon hadn't been around for long before the Music happened. Námo suspected he'd only come to Eä because of his older brother. He didn't seem to have had that much to do with Arien, even before they'd come here. From his many talks with Aulë, Námo felt the Maia hadn't been ready to leave the Timeless Halls. Nonetheless, family being important to the Maiar, he'd followed his older siblings' lead.

Though, his natural curiosity may also have played a part. Mairon had this insatiable need to _know_ things, though he was much more cautious than he'd once been. He knew curiosity could hurt him. He had no desire to be hurt anymore then he'd already been.

Though life had made him jaded beyond his years (beyond _any_ of their years), Mairon's mental and emotional states didn't reflect the amount of time he'd been in Eä. Morgoth hadn't bothered to guide Mairon's mind and teach him, like the other Valar had done with their Maiar (at least like most of them had done; Námo had his suspicions all was not as it seemed). He'd simply controlled Mairon, bending him to carry out his own will with no thought to the Maia's well-being. Consequently, Mairon was still very young in spirit (not to mention somewhat broken) needing love, support and guidance to fully mature and discover his own mind. These needs were even more acute because of what had happened to him.

Námo had never known a Maia to be so desperate, and have such a deep desire, to please and be loved. Both things that were made harder when Mairon thought he had to please _to_ be loved. He hadn't fully accepted the truth, that love was something that didn't have to be earnt, though he was improving in that department. His recent stay with Nienna had him helped tremendously in that regard.

It was good to see Mairon enjoying himself tonight, interacting with the other Maiar without any fear or hesitation. Despite living under the same roof, neither the Maiar in Mandos nor the Valar they served ever seemed to have a lot of time to interact like this. Someone always seemed to have something to do. To foster a feeling of unity and family, not long after the sun had risen, Námo and Vairë had started organising semi-regular family dinners for all the (living) inhabitants of Mandos.

They'd been a great success and had quickly become an annual event (Námo would like to have it more often, but it just wasn't possible to manage it more than once a year). All those serving in Mandos attended, even the kitchen staff. This was made possible by the fact that Námo and Vairë themselves did the serving, delighting in waiting on those who normally served them. At the very first dinner, when the Valar had declared they were doing things this way, their Maiar had not been keen on the idea. They'd feared they'd failed their lord and lady in some way, and were being punished. They'd had to be assured that was _not_ the case – that the Valar _wanted_ to look after them in this way for one night.

Since then, it had become a tradition. Though Mairon hadn't fully understood why Námo and Vairë were willing to humble themselves in such a way. He hadn't been able to comprehend that the joys of serving, and being appreciated for your work, went both ways. When he'd heard this was a regular event, he'd become even more confused… and more than a little fearful. When that happened, Námo had patiently sat him down, explaining everything to him. Once he'd understood why the Valar did this, the copper-haired Maia had calmed down. He'd even joyfully helped in preparing the formal dining hall for the event. Though the Valar did the serving and helped with the cleaning up, preparations for the dinner were still handled by the Maiar. It was the one concession they'd been able to convince Námo and Vairë to make.

This was the first time Mairon had come to one of these events. During the last few, he'd still been struggling to heal to a point where he could function. Námo was very proud of his efforts, and how far he'd come in what was a very short time. Mairon had an earnestness and honesty about him Námo had only encountered in a few others before. And none of them had been quite like this. Mairon's brutal past had shaped who he was today – had shaped his very character.

It was obvious to Námo that Mairon's repentance before Eönwë had been genuine. It'd been Morgoth's poisonous lies grafted onto his soul that had compelled him to flee afterwards. Morgoth's lies were still very much a part of him, but Mairon was gradually learning they didn't have to define who he was now. While they were still there, he was making huge progress towards being strong enough for the Valar to remove them.

Whether Mairon realised that himself, Námo didn't know. Mairon's self-esteem was better than it had been. But, he still talked down to himself, doubting his own worth more than was healthy for anyone.

Hence the reason he'd spent some time at Nienna's recently.

Watching him talk to Marilwë now, a light shining in his eyes that only appeared when he was with her, Námo suddenly got a clear glimpse of the future. And blinked. Twice. A small smile played at his lips as the image solidified, becoming a part of the future.

So much a part of the future, that it was set in stone. The Vala realised this with some surprise. That could only mean the other Valar had finally made some definite decisions.

Námo felt his thoughts souring, even though the future he'd glimpsed was very bright. While he was very happy Mairon was doing well, his progress also meant Manwë would soon want to start the next step in the Maia's rehabilitation process. Námo couldn't see exactly what would happen with that (too much depended on choices many people hadn't yet made), but he knew there were dark times ahead for Mairon.

While Námo would like to keep the Maia safe and happy in Mandos indefinitely, he couldn't do that. He knew Mairon had to go out; these things had to happen. While it pained him, he knew that, while the Maia would suffer, he would also come out of these trials stronger than he was before. The trials were part of Ilúvatar's plan for him: a plan he'd set in motion the moment he'd started guiding Mairon back to them. Námo didn't know what that plan was, but he'd never questioned their father's will before.

And he wasn't about to start now.

But, that still didn't stop the Doomsman, Judge, Comforter, and Keeper of the Souls of the Dead from wishing there was a way to prevent the tempest he knew was soon to break over all their heads.


	8. A conversation with Lord Manwë

**It has been over three solar years since Mairon came back to Valinor by this point. [roughly Year 2-3 of Second Age]**

* * *

**Chapter 8: A conversation with Lord Manwë**

"I'm so glad you came to visit us, Mai. It almost seems like old times!"

Eönwë bounced around them in excitement as he spoke. He'd barely been able to stay still since they'd arrived, and had finally given up on sitting entirely. In that moment, he looked more like an overexcited child than Manwë's Herald, Banner-Bearer, and Chief of the Maiar.

"I decided I'd had enough of Olórin's whining about how small and dark Mandos is." Mairon answered. "I figured I'd subjected him to it enough. Much more whining, and I may have had to resort to drastic measures."

The silver-haired Maia sitting next to him immediately started protesting. "I don't whine! And I am not criticising Lord Námo's domain in any way; it's a very nice place – for some. It is simply…not me. Too closed in and airless. Give me this any day. Don't you agree it is spectacular?"

Olórin swept his arm out, encompassing the open courtyard in front of them. They were situated under a wide awning, in deference to Mairon's sensitivity to sunlight. Though he could handle it much better than he'd used to, he still preferred shadows and dim lighting. The three of them were on Taniquetil, in Manwë and Varda's mansion. They were high enough up that wispy clouds floated past every so often, despite it being a nice day.

"It's okay," Mairon shrugged, "but I like Mandos. I feel safe there. All this open space – it still scares me a little."

Olórin put an arm around his little brother when he heard that, drawing him in closer. Eönwë, having worked off some of his excess energy, came to sit next to them. This was the first time since the younger Maia's return that Eönwë had seen him, and the Herald was overjoyed by the fact his friend was back.

Being with him was hard, though, when Mairon had so few memories of their previous friendship. And Eönwë, while he remembered good times spent with his old friend, knew _this_ Mairon was different to the one he'd known back then. Given these factors, they'd to build their relationship from scratch, with just the knowledge that they'd once known each other well to guide them.

Not that that worried Eönwë. Mairon was one of them now – was one of them again. And the Chief of the Maiar and Captain of the Hosts of the West intended to see to it that Olórin's brother was fully welcomed back into the fold. Regardless of what had happened in the past, it was the here and now Eönwë was concerned with.

The brothers had to shuffle over a bit to fit the Herald and his huge golden wings onto the bench. Olórin, who was sitting on the other end, almost fell off in the process, but, eventually, they were all settled. The two taller Maiar had Mairon tucked between them to help him feel safe. Eönwë gently wrapped one of his wings part-way around the smaller form, helping create an even more confined space.

"Better?" Olorin asked.

Mairon nodded, tension he hadn't been aware of bleeding out of his shoulders, "Yeah. Sorry for being so weak."

Olórin opened his mouth first, but Eönwë beat him to speaking.

"You are _not_ weak, Mai. In fact, you may be the strongest person I know." In a quieter voice he added, "I'm so glad you're back with us."

Mairon battered at the feathers Eönwë was using to try and rub his cheek. "Me too. Would you stop doing – whatever it is you are trying to do? Why do you have such big wings anyway? It's not like you need them that big to fly."

Eönwë, secretly pleased his distraction had worked, stopped teasing the younger Maia. "I like them big. It makes them seem very important. Though, I will soon have to take on a wingless form for a time."

Mairon tilted his head. "Why?"

Eönwë made a pained face, bringing his wings inward ever so slightly. "I have accepted an assignment from my lord that will mean I have to leave Valinor for a time. I'm going to go teach the Edain on Middle Earth. Lord Manwë –" the Herald sighed. "Lord Manwë feels my wings would get in the way of me being able to effectively do that." Eönwë looked wistful for a moment, before his voice lightened. "Mairon. You've heard about the Valar's plans to create an island kingdom for the Half-Elf that chose mortality and the mortals who helped the Valar during the War?"

Mairon nodded. "Olórin's told me a little about it."

"Well, the island needs to be made before they can live there, which will take time. During that time, Lord Manwë wants me to teach them and prepare them for the future. I…am a bit nervous about it, I will admit. I'm not sure what to expect."

Mairon shrugged. "I'm sure you'll be fine. It doesn't take much to impress the Edain, and, once they're impressed, they usually listen. They're a resilient and stubborn bunch, though. They even beat the elves in the stubborn department sometimes, which is saying something. But, they can also change their minds at the drop of a feather. They're very unpredictable and frequently short-sighted. It seems to be a hazard of being mortal."

Eönwë was drinking all this information in, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the copper-haired Maia. "You've had dealings with them?"

Mairon nodded. "A little bit. Enough to learn the basics of their culture. They're very different to any other creation of Eru's I've ever met."

Eönwë looked excited, beginning to slightly bounce once more. "You must tell me all you know! I'm going in blind here; none of the Ainur know much. I don't want to look like a total idiot for not knowing the most basic information about them."

"What about the elves?" Mairon queried. "I know some of the exiles, and the Sindar, had a lot to do with them over time. And their encounters were probably more informative than mine." He stared off a little bit. "Mine… tended to not – they weren't the best."

Eönwë pursed his lips, but did not mention Mairon's reaction. "Really? Anyone in particular I should talk to?"

"You could try Finrod Felagund for a start." Mairon shrugged. "I know he associated with the Edain _a lot_. He seemed to be fascinated by them."

Eönwë was excited. "Really?! I didn't know that. How do you know that?"

Mairon winced. "It's…It's better you don't know the details. And, whatever you do, don't mention my name, or that I sent you. It…most likely would not end well."

Eönwë exchanged a long look with Olórin. "O-K. What if he wants to know how I know about him?"

"Make something up. You _really_ don't want to mention me. He won't talk to you at all if you do."

"Now I'm curious." Olorin said, turning so he was better able to see his brother.

Mairon gave his brother a dead-eyed look.

"Trust me on this 'lórin; you really _don't_ want to know."

The two older Maia exchanged looks over Mairon's head. Eönwë spoke first.

"Then I'll have to just think of something else to tell him. I can't very well just turn up at his door unannounced and be like 'hey, I heard you know a lot about the Edain. Mind sharing that information?'"

All three Maiar laughed at the high-pitched voice Eönwë had put on. It wasn't long before a softer, and much deeper, chuckle joined in.

"Turn up at whose door unannounced, Eönwë?"

All three Maiar hastily scrambled to their feet, bowing low at the sound of Manwë's voice. That done, Eönwë beamed at his lord.

"Finrod's. Apparently, he associated a lot with the Edain. Mai said he may be able to help me learn more about them!"

Manwë looked interested. "That would indeed be beneficial. I will help you think of some excuse to go see him, Eönwë. I'm sure I can think up a way for you to deliver a message to either him, or King Arafinwë."

The Herald smiled at Manwë, giving another small bow. "That would be wonderful. Thank you, my lord."

Manwë smiled back, before looking at Mairon. Said Maia was still sitting cocooned between his Maiar. It hadn't escaped Manwë's notice that he'd gone very quiet when the Vala had appeared, shrinking even further into the safety Olórin and Eönwë offered him.

Manwë couldn't blame him for his unease. The last time they'd seen each other had been in the Máhanaxar, more than three years prior. And that meeting had not been a pleasant one for the Maia. Manwë had to fight back a wince at the thought of how he'd forcibly broken down the Maia's fragile mental shields to access his memories. While he'd been gentle, it had still hurt Mairon deeply, a ghostly reminder of the brutality he'd already been subject to.

It did not help that Manwë was the brother of the Vala who'd treated him so terribly. While Manwë was not like Melkor in temperament, they were very alike in many other little ways. In the same way the Fëanturi siblings shared common traits. A lot of it was subconscious on Manwë's part as well, adding to his difficulty in avoiding possible triggers for the young Maia.

The last thing he wanted to do was trigger a negative memory from the Maia's time with Morgoth. Especially as Mairon was going so well.

"Mairon. It's wonderful to see you here, Child. It's been a while. How are you?"

The Maia raised hesitant eyes to look at him. Manwë was encouraged to note they were a little bit brighter then when he'd last seen them. In fact, Mairon looked much better as a whole. His time with Námo had been well spent. Not that Manwë had any doubts about the abilities of the Guardian of Souls. Despite his impassive exterior, he knew the Doomsman had a soft heart.

"I'm doing okay. Thank you, Lord Manwë."

"You aren't having any problems with living in Mandos?"

Mairon shook his head. "No, Sir. I like it there."

Manwë gave him a gentle smile. "Good. I heard Námo has even given you some responsibilities. How's that going?"

Mairon's smile was genuine, though small. "It's going great. I – I like serving there."

Manwë smiled. "I know you do."

Realising Mairon was very uncomfortable, Olórin cleared his throat. "What brings you here, my Lord? Do you have a job for us?"

Manwë shook his head. "No, you deserve some time off. I just came to see how Mairon was."

The Vala smiled at said Maia again. "Námo keeps me informed of your progress, but I wanted to see you myself. You're looking so much better, Mairon. How are you feeling?"

The Maia's eyes flickered to his brother.

"I am doing as well as can be expected, Lord Manwë."

Manwë quickly realised Mairon didn't want to voice his feelings in front of Olórin. Or probably Eönwë. Though the later did knew the basic logistics of what Mairon had gone through, due to his limited involvement in having seen him back on Middle Earth. Olórin, however, was still blissfully unaware of just how deeply and utterly Morgoth had hurt his little brother. Mairon obviously wanted to keep it that way, and Manwë wasn't about to argue.

At least for now. Though, truth be told, Manwë would be happy if Olórin _never_ found out what Melkor had done. Mairon needed his brother to be calm and supportive. He did not need him angry and resentful. Both of which Manwë knew would happen if Olórin found out the full extent of the abuse Mairon had suffered.

The Vicegerent of Arda did not feel like dealing with the seething ball of rage Olórin would turn into if he ever found out what had happened. Olórin might be counted as wise by many, but he was still inclined to act purely on emotions at times. And his emotional responses surrounding his little brother were very strong. Manwë wasn't keen on posting a guard on the doors to the Void in order to keep Olórin from forcibly entering to tear Melkor to shreds.

Especially seeing Námo and Aulë would likely be more than happy to help him…

"That's good to know. When you're finished with your visit, before you leave, I would like to talk to you in private, Mairon. To find out how you are. With your permission, of course."

The small Maia looked down, refusing to meet Manwë's gentle gaze. He said nothing for a long time, but Manwë was patient. Olórin moved half-a-step closer, enough so that his shoulder brushed Mairon's in support, and Eönwë wrapped one wing partway around him again as well. Finally, Mairon raised his head, gold eyes meeting the blue ones of the Elder King.

"Okay."

* * *

"How are you really doing, Mairon?"

The Maia walking quietly next to the Elder King shrugged. "I'm healing. At least, that's what everyone keeps telling me, and I might be starting to believe it. I – I certainly don't feel as nervous and stressed as I did before. It's still there, but it's…muted."

Manwë smiled. "That's good news. It means you're starting to lose some of your fear of us."

"I'm not scared of Lord Námo."

Manwë stopped, turning to face the Maia. His smile was warm. "That's indeed good news. If you don't mind me asking, how did it come about?"

Mairon's face coloured, and he quickly looked away. "He hasn't given me a reason to fear him." The Maia crossed his arms, hugging himself tightly. Manwë suspected it was a subconscious action. "He – he looks after me. No matter what happens, he's always the same. I-I like that. It makes me feel safe. I never felt safe with _Him_. Even in the beginning, when He was still nice to me."

Námo was very predictable; Manwë fully agreed with the Maia on that assessment. And, it made sense this predictability would help Mairon feel secure. Melkor had always been anything but predictable, Manwë thought with a pang.

At least temper-wise. His motives for doing what he'd done had never changed, though Manwë still didn't understand them.

"You don't have to fear any of us, Mairon. We won't hurt you. We don't want to see you hurt any longer. Indeed, it pains us that you were even hurt at all."

Mairon sighed. "Logically, I know I need not fear. It's just…"

He trailed off as Manwë nodded. "I know, Young One. I know. More than you realise. He was my brother, after all."

Mairon looked up at him. "Neither of us seems to have much success with family, do we?"

Manwë raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that? I though you and Olórin were getting on well now."

"We are, to a point. But we've still spent more years estranged then we have been a family, and that causes awkwardness, more often than not. And Arien…I haven't spoken to my sister in years. She-she…I always got the impression she didn't approve of me. And now…well, now she is the sun. And I find the sunlight painful, despite the fact she is my sister. I-I don't know if that aversion is me, or Morgoth's influence, or some combination of the two. He hated sunlight from the beginning."

"He was inclined to hate anything others perceived as good on principal." Manwë stated quietly.

Mairon looked at his feet and didn't reply. His unease around Manwë was plain, but it wasn't an unease born of fear. At least, not entirely. There was some fear there, lurking just under the surface, but most of it was uncertainty about how to act or behave. Having been kept up to date on everything Mairon did, Manwë knew the small Maia (and he was small, not only in stature but in presence as well), when he wasn't sure how to behave, or got a fright, defaulted to total subservience. It pained Manwë greatly to even _try_ and think about what Melkor had done (beyond what they'd seen) to condition Mairon to respond to a Vala in a way no Maia should ever feel the need to do.

While Manwë expected a certain level of respect to be met towards him, Mairon would go much further in his subservient behaviour. There was no thought in it, Aulë had told the Elder King after his first solo meeting with his former apprentice. It'd been pure instinct.

An instinct they were at least starting to make some progress in breaking.

By this point, they 'd reached a cushioned bench located in a sheltered corner of one of the Hallways. Manwë sat down, patting the space next to him.

"Mairon. Please sit. I have something I would like to talk to you about."

After a brief hesitation, the Maia complied with his request. He was careful to keep a respectable distance between them, and Manwë made no attempt to reach out, or appear threatening in any way. He knew Mairon still didn't trust him, or really any of them, except for Námo. And, from all accounts, the Doomsman had well and truly earnt that trust.

Manwë was just grateful that Mairon, who'd been so abused by his brother Vala, didn't hold any animosity towards _him_. Fear and mistrust could be overcome, given enough time. You just had to prove these feelings were unfounded and then replace them with something positive.

"Mairon. After some long talks with Námo, I think you are strong enough to start thinking about choosing a Vala to serve with full-time."

Wide golden eyes met clear blue ones.

"Really? But-but-but…." Mairon's breathing sped up, and his gaze darted around the area they were in as his body tensed. Manwë internally sighed.

"Calm down, Child. It will be your decision what you do; we won't force you. But, I do ask that you at least listen to what I have to say."

Mairon swallowed, ducking his head submissively. His breathing was still ragged, but Manwë could see the Maia visibly working on getting that back under his control.

"Yes, Lord."

Manwë gave an internal sigh at the response, even as he continued talking without missing a beat. "We both realise you have not had much interaction with anyone other than Morgoth, Námo, Nienna, Vairë and Aulë, and so your perception of the Valar is most likely…biased. For that purpose, Varda proposed an idea I think is a very good one."

Mairon glanced at Manwë, a spark of curiosity entering his eyes.

"She proposed to let you spend a period of time, say a week or two, with each of us. During that time, the lord or lady you are with will supervise you, and assign you jobs to help you gain an idea of what they and their Maiar do. After you've spent some time with everyone, you'll then have a better idea of who you'd like to serve on a permanent basis."

Mairon's expression didn't change. "That – sounds interesting. I just don't know if…" The Maia hesitated, before looking Manwë in the eye. "If I decide, half-way through a week that I don't want to be there anymore, will I be allowed to leave? And, what about if I don't want to even spend time with someone? Will I be allowed to have a say in whom I go to?"

Manwë nodded. "Absolutely. You can veto anyone whom you don't want to look at serving. And, if you feel uncomfortable at any time or like you aren't a good match, they will allow you to leave. The whole point of this exercise is to find a Vala or Valië you can feel happy and safe serving."

"Can't I just stay in Mandos?" Mairon asked. He twisted his fingers together, eyes averting looking at Manwë again. "I feel safe with Lord Námo and Lady Vairë."

Manwë nodded. "And I'm glad beyond measure you do. If you truly want to serve there, we won't stop you from making that choice. However, Varda and I feel you should at least consider all your options before making a final decision. We're concerned you're acting upon the fond emotions you feel towards Námo, especially, and not on what is best for you long-term. You might find your skills and personality a better match to someone else."

Mairon looked pensive as he thought over the Vala's words. After a prolonged silence in which Manwë waited patiently, he spoke decisively.

"I don't want to serve with Lord Oromë. Or Lord Tulkas. Or Lord Ulmo. Water and me do _not_ mix."

Manwë chuckled.

"That's fine. You don't even have to spend time with Ulmo if you don't want to. However, I would like you to reconsider spending some time with Oromë."

Mairon shook his head firmly. "He scares me. I-I can't serve someone who scares me again."

Manwë sighed, before looking hopeful. "Does this mean you're considering Varda's suggestion?"

Mairon gave a slow nod. "Yes. I can see the wisdom in it. And I always have wondered what some of you do. It's just…" The Maia sighed, staring at his hands. "I'm not sure I'm ready to meet other Maiar. Or any elves. As soon as word gets out to them that I'm here…"

Mairon's voice trailed off. When it became obvious he didn't intend to say anymore, Manwë spoke.

"You're right about one thing. Once you do this, the elves will soon hear you are here. Many of us have elves in our service. Even Vairë has Míriel, not that she ever leaves Mandos or associates with anyone outside. However, the Valar oversee Valinor, Mairon. And we've decided to show you mercy and grant you a second chance. Our decisions have nothing to do with them. As for our Maiar…"

Manwë gave Mairon a steady look. "Everyone knows you're here by now. Some were indeed not happy about it. We've sorted out the grievances we found, but we know resentment still exists. That's part of the reason we intend to keep a very close eye on you while you are with us."

At the look of fear in the Maia's eyes, Manwë continued softly. "However, we don't want fear to stop you from healing, Mairon. While we don't know the people responsible for the resentment, we can't let fear and worry hold us back. If, at any time, you feel any are hostile towards you, or anything happens, you are to inform the lord or lady you are serving with immediately. They will take care of it. And I know you don't want to cause problems like this, but being found out will do them a favour, Mairon."

The Maia looked at him with wide eyes. "How?"

"It will enable us to find out why they hold resentment. Knowing this will, in turn, mean we can help them let go of it, and heal."

Mairon blinked. "Oh. I – hadn't thought of it that way."

Manwë nodded. "I know. Which is why I'm telling you. And, if you agree to this proposal, I'd like to have you serve here with Varda and me first. Before Eönwë leaves for Middle Earth, if possible. I know several of ours are still struggling to come to terms with all that has happened. I hope his presence will help them accept you."

Mairon thought over all Manwë had told him. The Vala waited for him to come to a decision. Humming to himself, Manwë passed the time making shapes out of wisps of clouds that floated past. Finally, Mairon looked up.

"I – think I would like to at least give it a try."

Manwë's whole face lit up. Mairon just hoped he wouldn't regret this.


	9. On Taniquetil

**Chapter 9: ****On Taniquetil**

Mairon stared at the stars.

Leaning over the half-wall of the courtyard, he gazed listlessly out over Valinor. Everything was quiet, and he knew most of its inhabitants were asleep, or at least resting. He should be too, but the Maia couldn't find rest right now.

He was tired, and knew he would have to sleep eventually. However, if he allowed himself to sink back into oblivion, he feared the nightmares would find him again. He hadn't had nightmares for over three years now, ever since he'd moved into Mandos. He'd gotten used to peaceful sleep in that short space of time, and the intensity of the ones he'd experienced tonight had greatly shaken him.

Not that he was a stranger to nightmares. They'd been a frequent companion when he'd been on Middle Earth, though he hadn't had them since being back in Valinor. But, on his very first night in Manwë and Varda's mansion, he'd woken up in a cold sweat after only a few hours by memories of pain and screaming. He hadn't dared go back to sleep after that, so had slipped into one of the outer robes Lady Vairë had made for him (it was cold up here, much colder than in Mandos), and sought out the stars.

Which hadn't been hard to do. The mansion was the focal point from which Varda and her Maiar set new gems in the sky, and from where they managed them. They were so close, Mairon could reach out and touch some of them. While he knew these stars were made more for Varda's pleasure than anything else (being too small to be seen outside of Valinor), they were still familiar from Before everything. As if sensing his thoughts, one of the smallest stars chose at that moment to float softly over his palm. The gentle light and vague warmth helped ease his turbulent thoughts until he felt almost calm.

"Varda's stars are beautiful, aren't they?"

Mairon jumped, quickly turning around. Manwë stood in the doorway, dressed in a cream tunic and dark blue leggings. It was the most underdressed Mairon had ever seen the Vala. Quickly, he bowed low, giving the Master of the Air the proper obeisance.

Manwë waved him off, coming to lean on the wall beside him. "There's no need for that, Mairon. Not when we aren't in a formal setting." He raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. "I highly doubt you greet Námo like that every time you see him."

Mairon shook his head. "No, Lord Manwë, but..."

He trailed off, not knowing what to say. Manwë didn't seem to mind, instead continuing to talk.

"I see you were admiring my wife's handiwork." Manwë came to stand beside the Maia. "They're beautiful, are they not?"

Mairon sighed, going back to staring at the stars. "Yes. They – they never changed. No matter what happened. They were always the same; sparkly and beautiful, yet distant. Cold in their indifference to what went on below them."

Manwë remained silent. For a while, Vala and Maia stood there, neither saying anything as they watched the stars. Finally, Manwë stirred.

"Could you not sleep?"

Mairon swallowed. "No, Sir."

Manwë gave him a knowing look. "Nightmares?"

Mairon lowered his eyes, "How did you know?"

"I guessed. It wasn't hard. Not when I could feel your distress and fear. I'm not _that_ oblivious to what goes on around here."

Mairon rested his chin on his hands with a weary sigh. He didn't have the energy to do much else. "I'm so tired of being scared all the time."

Manwë's voice was gentle. "Look at me, child."

Mairon obeyed. The Vala's eyes were as gentle as his voice had been, showing genuine concern and care.

"You are improving, Mairon. As recently as a year ago, you wouldn't have been able to do what you can now. We're all proud of you, and what you've achieved in such a short time. These things take time to overcome. But, one day, that fear will disappear entirely."

A lone tear tricked down Mairon's cheek uninvited. "I hope you're right."

Manwë sighed. "I am. One day, I hope you will come to see that."

Mairon did not reply. Manwë bowed his head, before changing the subject. "How was your first day up here?"

Mairon looked thoughtful, though the remnants of tears remained on his cheeks. "It was – not as bad as I was expecting. Olórin loves having me here. As does Eönwë."

Manwë smiled. "Yes. He certainly does. He was ecstatic when he heard you were coming to stay with us for a while. He could hardly complete his tasks for the rest of the day. Olórin was too, but he didn't go racing through the corridors singing at the top of his voice."

Mairon perked up. "Eönwë really did that?"

Manwë nodded. "Yes. It was so intense, it even caused some of my birds to take off in fright. Took me ages to calm them down enough to convince them to return."

Mairon still didn't quite believe it. "I – that's not the correct way for someone of his status to act, surely?"

Manwë shook his head. "Not really, but it's not the most outrageous thing he has ever done. For all that he's your Chief, and my Herald, he has the maturity of a five-year-old Edain at times. Actually, on second thought, a five-year-old has more maturity. Thankfully, Ilmarë keeps him in line."

Marion lowered his gaze. "I know Ilmarë and I used to be friends, or at least friendly, a long time ago. I have a few dim memories from when we lived in Almaren. But…" The Maia looked at the ground as he spoke in a broken whisper. "Why does she hate me so much? I-I get I probably deserve it for what I've done. B-But why such hate?"

Manwë felt a sharp pain in his chest at seeing the haunted and resigned look on the Maia's features. "You don't deserve hate, Mairon. And she doesn't hate you. Not directly. She – hates Melkor, all he did, and all whom helped him. While she accepts our judgement concerning you, she doesn't agree with it. She is trying to come to terms with you being here, but needs more time."

Mairon didn't give a verbal reply, but his hunched shoulders told Manwë all he needed to know. Ilmarë _was_ trying to let go of her anger and hate, but it was a long and difficult process for her. Unlike Mairon (who'd accepted all that had happened and was trying to move past it), she never had. She grieved deeply for all the hurts Melkor's actions had wrought on the world, especially his destruction of both the lamps and the trees. Having served Varda from the beginning, she loved light more than anything else. And Melkor had been the personification of darkness, long before the War of Wrath ended his reign of pain and terror.

But none of that helped the silent Maia beside him. Only time and love could do that.

"Varda and I will keep an eye on things, Mairon. You need not fear any of us. The whole point of this exercise is to show you we can be trusted. And to give you an opportunity to earn our trust and prove you are sincere in your repentance."

Mairon looked up sharply. "I am sincere! I _want_ a second chance so bad it hurts. I'm just terrified I'll mess it up somehow. I-I don't want to go to the Void…"

The Maia hunched in on himself even more, before starring back at the stars. He was drinking in their soft light like it was the last time he would ever see them, Manwë realised. The Elder King also noticed fine tremors had begun running through the Maia's body, and closed his eyes in pain.

"That will never happen, Mairon. While it might have once been a possibility, it is not anymore. Not now that we understand just what you went through. To punish you that harshly…would make us no better than him. Even what you did of your own volition is not worthy of that punishment."

Mairon swallowed. "But what if I lose control, or do something by accident?" He fingered the necklace still bound about his neck; Manwë was sure the action was subconscious. "Morgoth's power, it-it is strong, even now…"

Manwë wanted nothing more than to pull the lost looking Maia into an embrace, but restrained himself. He wasn't Námo (whom he knew Mairon was happy to cuddle with for hours), and he was also not Mairon's lord. The Valar generally avoided touching the Maiar belonging to others (unless the Maia initiated it), out of respect for both them and their lord or lady.

The exception to this was Nienna. She would cuddle anyone she decided needed it, whether they thought they did or not. Mairon, not having sworn an oath to a lord or lady, was currently a complicated case regarding this unspoken rule. But, Manwë instinctively knew trying to touch or cuddle him without the Maia asking for it was not the right thing to do.

Not that Mairon was bereft of physical touch. Eönwë and Olórin saw to that. Among themselves, the Maiar were generally more tactile then they were with the Valar.

"Mairon. Look at me and mark my words. You are _never going to the Void_. You don't deserve that fate. If something should happen, and you lose control or become a danger to others – locking you in a cell in Mandos would render you powerless. Even Melkor couldn't escape from there."

Mairon's answering laugh was brittle, lacking any real humour. "I'm powerless now. Any – any one of you could overpower me without trouble. Even the least among the Maiar could. Even the _elves_ probably could."

Manwë sighed. "We won't do that. Even if we did have to lock you up for some reason, we would not abuse, humiliate or degrade you in the process. We're not like him, Mairon. I know you've been told this before, but we will keep telling you until you believe us."

Mairon's eyes flickered in the Vala's direction. "I don't know if I'll ever believe it. I want to, but…"

His voice trailed off. Manwë looked at the Maia with gentle compassion.

"You will. One day. You were with him for many Ages, Mairon, and have been with us for less than four solar years. These things take time. And please, don't let Ilmarë worry you. She respects us and our decisions, and loves her brother dearly. Eönwë is delighted you are back. She will not cause problems."

Mairon looked back at the stars. "I hope you are right, Lord Manwë."

"I am."

Mairon said nothing in reply to that.

After waiting a while longer, Manwë spoke again. "Would you like me to call Lórien, so you can go back to sleep?"

Mairon sighed. "Sleep would be nice, but I don't want to bother Lord Irmo."

"I am sure he won't mind being disturbed for this. It will give him less time to think up new ways to torment me."

Mairon look up, curiosity shining in his eyes. "What happened?"

Manwë gave an involuntary wince. "Nothing. Forget I said anything. It's not important."

A ghost of a smile played at Mairon's lips. "If you say so, Lord."

"I do. Do you wish me to call him?"

Mairon sighed. His voice was once again small, like it had been at the trial. "Yes. Please."

* * *

Ilmarë was trying to forgive Mairon. She really was. But, unlike Eönwë (who hated holding a grudge or being angry at someone) she couldn't help blaming him for the trouble they'd gone through. Realistically, she knew Morgoth was to blame for most of it (as Mairon had been obeying his orders) but he'd still _been involved_.

She just knew he had been involved with the destruction of her beloved lamps, even if indirectly. Leaving mere days before they were destroyed, after having helped make them, was blatantly suspicious. While h'd nothing to do with the destruction of the trees, Ilmarë still blamed him for giving Morgoth a fortress and army to go back to on Middle Earth afterwards.

If he hadn't had that, maybe all the destruction wouldn't have happened.

When she'd first heard that Morgoth's chief lieutenant had come to Valinor, and that the Valar had shown him mercy, she'd been simultaneously shocked and instantly suspicious. It hadn't taken Varda long to notice her behaviour; as a result, they'd had several long talks. While her Lady was satisfied _Sauron_ was not a threat, Ilmarë was not convinced.

They'd told her Morgoth wasn't a threat as well when they'd released him from Mandos.

Even if Sauron had been hurt by Morgoth (and she didn't doubt that), hadn't he brought it on himself by joining the Dark Vala in the first place? What else had he expected? Everyone had known what Morgoth was like. Even back then.

Deep in thought, Ilmarë rounded the corner without looking where she was going. Only to walk right into something soft and solid who was just standing there. Narrowly avoiding a collision with the floor through her fast reflexes, Varda's chief Maia glared at the one responsible for her almost making a fool of herself.

And froze.

_Sauron_ stared back at her in horror. Ilmarë recovered first.

"What are YOU doing here? This is my LADY'S area of the mansion; you should not be here!"

The copper-haired Maia opened his mouth, but no words came. Her anger and shock overcoming her good sense, Ilmarë took a step towards him. In her anger, she didn't notice the way he cowered away from her, fear flashed through his eyes, hands raising in front of him.

"I asked you a question, _Sauron_!"

Ilmarë lifted her hand as she took another step forward, intending to re-adjust her tiara. It'd slipped when she'd almost fallen over. The sudden movement startled _Sauron_ out of the daze he was in.

Ilmarë wasn't prepared for what happened next.

Without a word, the copper-haired Maia's knees collided with the floor so hard, a resounding 'crack' echoed through the hall. Hunching in on himself, he lowered his head so his forehead all but touched the floor. His whole body trembled as he braced for whatever he thought was coming, a litany of pleas issuing from his mouth.

"Please Master, I'm sorry! It won't happen again! Mercy, please Master!"

Ilmarë stood frozen in shock.

For a long moment, she could do nothing. Nothing but stare at the shaking form hunched pleading for mercy on the ground at her feet.

Then, she found her voice.

"MY LADY!"

The sheer panic was enough to bring Varda instantly to her side. Taking one look at the scene, the Valië summoned Manwë, who arrived mere seconds behind her. Going to his knees next to Mairon, the Vala reached out and touched his shoulder, speaking softly to him. Mairon violently flinched, shying away from the Elder King, cowering further into the floor. His trembling increased as his words died down, until only his ragged breathing echoed through the hall. Manwë exchanged a quick look with his wife.

Ilmarë didn't register when Varda put a gentle hand on her shoulder, thinking them away. She was too numb with shock.

* * *

It was a while before Ilmarë could speak again. When she did, her voice was not above a whisper. "What happened? W-Why did he do that?" She turned to look at her lady, tears sitting in her eyes.

Varda sighed, running a soothing hand through Ilmarë's dark hair. "Mairon – has been through a lot of trauma, my dear. I told you Morgoth hurt him, but even we don't know the full extent of the abuse he suffered. He has scars, both physical and mental, and most are not yet healed. We do, however, know he was often a convenient outlet for Morgoth's tantrums."

Ilmarë stared at her Lady in horror. Sauron had been used as an outlet for the fallen Vala's vile temper? But Varda wasn't yet finished.

"And, if he feels threatened, we've discovered he becomes subservient in the hope of placating the one he perceives will hurt him. Whether the threat is real or not, he behaves the same way. It's instinctive; he doesn't give it conscious thought."

Ilmarë dropped her gaze, guilt starting to eat at her. The other Maia had seen her as a threat. He'd reacted on instinct because _he'd seen her as a threat_.

Like he'd seen_ Morgoth_ as a threat.

"What happened to cause this behaviour, my Dear?"

Varda's enquiring voice brought Ilmarë back to the present, though she refused to meet her lady's eyes. Swallowing around the lump that had formed in her throat, the Maia tried speaking without her voice trembling.

She failed.

"I-I yelled at him. And…and called him S-Sauron. He-he thought I was going to strike him. But I wasn't. I w-was just re-adjusting my t-tiara…" She couldn't keep her tears at bay any more. Several escaped and trickled down her cheek. "He-he thought I was a threat."

Varda nodded, her expression neutral. "Yes. He did. Why did you yell at him? It's not like you to lose your temper to the point where you yell at someone."

Ilmarë's face coloured in shame. "He – startled me. I-I wasn't expecting him to be there. I'd just been thinking about him and M-Morgoth…"

Ilmarë stared at the ground. Tears streamed down her face, as her voice finally broke. "I messed up badly, didn't I?"

Varda's voice was firm. "Yes, you did."

Ilmarë hiccupped, digging her fingernails into her palm to keep her grounded. "What's happening with him now?"

"Manwë and Námo are with him. Mairon will be okay, my dear. Though, later, I think you owe him an apology."

Varda's voice held a disapproving and disappointed note. Ilmarë nodded, tears continuing to trickle down her cheeks. At the same time, the anger that had seemed so important to her before suddenly seemed almost as evil as Morgoth had been.

Morgoth. That was twice in the last hour that she'd found herself comparing her actions to his.

"I owe him several apologises. I-I have been acting like Morgoth. My-my hatred of him is turning me _into_ him."

Varda immediately wrapped her arms around her trembling handmaiden, shaking her head. "No, Ilmarë. You're nothing like him. You understand beauty, and compassion, and mercy – all these were foreign to him. You understand and accept the purpose of the music, and have never tried to go against _Atar's _wishes. You love light and goodness – two things he never comprehended. You are not like him at all, my sweet girl."

"But holding onto rage and hate for no good reason is exactly like him."

Varda sighed. "Forgiveness was something he never understood. Nor did he understand pity or mercy; he thought these things weak. He perceived us as weak for offering them to him."

Ilmarë looked up at her. "Why _did_ you offer them to him? I never understood why you thought he'd repented. He was good at lies, that is true. But, the look in his eyes when he was allowed out of Mandos told me he was anything but repentant."

Varda sighed. "I know. The only answer I can give you is not a sufficient one to warrant what came later, but I will try. Ilmarë, you love your brother, don't you?"

The Maia nodded without having to think. "With all my heart. As annoying as he can be, I would be lost without him."

Varda nodded.

"Melkor was Manwë's brother. For a long time before even I came along, it was just the two of them. Together in the Timeless Halls."

Understanding slowly dawned in Ilmarë's eyes. "Morgoth was to Manwë what Eönwë is to me."

Varda nodded. "Essentially. It doesn't excuse anything, but hopefully will help you understand better why those things were done."

Ilmarë swallowed. "I - I am sorry my Lady. I - I am sorry for questioning your decisions and doubting you. I can't promise to stop doing it straight away, but-but I will try and forgive _Mairon_. While I still feel he was responsible for much of what happened, it is f-forgiveness and mercy that sets us apart from M-Morgoth. Isn't it?"

Varda smiled, giving her handmaiden a reassuring hug, "Yes, Ilmarë. It is. And I'm very proud of you for finally understanding that."

* * *

**Wow. When did this turn into a soap opera? Plot Bunnies, what have you DONE? *They smirk***


	10. Reconciliation

**As the last chapter was posted over a day later then normal and ended on a cliff-hanger, here's a bonus chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Reconciliation**

Manwë waited helplessly for Námo to arrive. Thankfully, he didn't have long to wait. As soon as he got Manwë's panicked mental message, the Doomsman was there.

Taking in the situation in one glance, Námo went to his knees next to the cowering Maia. The Vala bent low, whispering something to Mairon that Manwë didn't catch. When that got no response, he reached out, touching Mairon's shoulder. A flinch greeted the action, but Námo didn't remove his hand. Rather, he started rubbing the Maia's shoulder, humming a soft tune.

To Manwë's amazement, rather than flinching away at the continued touch, Mairon leant into it. He was still trembling, but was visibly calmer then he'd been before. Still humming, the Doomsman carefully wrapped his arms around him. Picking the Maia up, Námo cradling him against his chest, still humming. Manwë watched, more than a little dumbfounded, as Mairon latched onto the Vala's robe, curling into Námo. Though his eyes were still closed and his breathing elevated, it started becoming more even the longer Námo held him.

Eventually, the Doomsman stopped humming. Mairon lay calmly in his arms, though the skin around his mouth and eyes was still taut, his eyes still not open. Turning to face the Elder King, Námo raised an eyebrow. His expression gave nothing away about how he was feeling.

"Where's his room?"

* * *

Safety. That was the first sensation Mairon became aware of.

He was wrapped in the Safety like a blanket; it surrounded him on every side. Heaving a great sigh, the Maia cuddled further into Safety. He didn't know what'd happened, beyond the panicked certainty he was going to be hurt, but Safety soothed his fears. He trusted Safety; Safety had never hurt him.

After a while, Mairon realised someone was humming a soft, soothing melody nearby – the same melody that always played whenever he became terrified. Simultaneously, the Maia realised he was been cradled into a familiar chest. As he became more aware, he also realised the familiar hands he associated with Safety were gently rubbing the back of his neck.

Becoming fully aware, Mairon lifted his head a fraction, blinking up at the Vala. "Lord Námo?"

His voice was scratchy. Talking aggravated it, causing him to cough. Námo lifted a glass of water to his lips, which Mairon gratefully sipped from. When he'd had enough, he tried speaking again, pleased when his voice came out much clearer.

"Lord Námo? W-Why are you here? What happened?"

The Doomsman brushed some hair out of his face. "Manwë called and said you needed me, Little One. Do you remember what happened?"

Mairon blinked. "No…what did happen? I remember being afraid, but I don't remember anything else…"

Námo looked over Mairon's shoulder. "Manwë. Maybe you could tell us both what happened?"

Mairon twisted around to look at the other Vala. He hadn't even realised there was someone else in the room; he'd been so caught up in the feeling of Safety Námo provided. Without a word, the Doomsman shifted them around, so Mairon could see Manwë without having to crane his neck. The Maia settled back with a contented sigh into Námo's power. Resting his head once again on the Vala's chest, he allowed the beat of Námo's heart to sooth him.

The Elder King gave a very not-content sigh of his own. "Ilmarë got a fright and yelled at you. You panicked, before shutting down on us. At least, that's what we think happened. Varda is still piecing the story together. You don't remember anything?"

Mairon shook his head. "No. I-I remember thinking I would be hurt but…I'm sorry."

Manwë opened his mouth to say there was nothing to be sorry for, but Námo was already talking. "What are you sorry for, Little One?"

Mairon blinked. "Everything?"

Námo huffed in what may have been a laugh from anyone else. "You need to stop blaming yourself for anything bad that happens around here, Mairon. Whatever did happen, I doubt it was your fault. Manwë?"

The other Vala (who had been miles away, most likely talking to his wife via ósanwe), focused on them at hearing his name, nodding in agreement.

"Yes, it was not your fault, Mairon. Ilmarë was in the wrong here – not you. She over-reacted, you over-reacted in response, and we ended up here. She's very sorry for everything."

Mairon's response was to turn around, burying his head in Námo's chest again. As he did so, a wince of pain escaped him.

Námo frowned. "What is wrong, Little One?"

Mairon's voice was muffled. "M-My knees hurt. I do remember…I hit the ground pretty hard."

Námo exchanged a long look with Manwë. "Will you allow us to have a look?"

Mairon nodded into the Vala's chest. Námo, without letting go of Mairon, nodded to Manwë to roll the Maia's leggings up. Manwë took a deep breath when the swollen and bruised knees were exposed. Námo's expression didn't change.

"Let's get Estë here to look at your knees, Little One. I don't like the look of those bruises."

Mairon nodded, not lifting his head. "Okay. They hurt."

Estë appeared in time to hear that last sentence. When she saw his knees, she huffed. "No wonder they hurt. Let's have a look at the damage, hum?"

Mairon allowed the healer to gently palpate the swollen knees, hissing in pain only twice. Once she had diagnosed the damage, it didn't take her long to fix it. When she was satisfied he was fine again, Estë stood up.

"All fixed. You might still be sore for a day or two, so take it easy. Is there anything else?"

She looked at Námo, whom shook his head, and the healer disappeared. After she left, the two Valar exchanged a lot of facial expressions (on Manwë's part anyway, Námo's face didn't change) before the Elder King turned to Mairon.

"Are you up to seeing Ilmarë now? She really wants to say sorry."

Manwë tucked a stray strand of hair behind Mairon's ear. He was very pleased when the Maia did not react to his touch. He really did trust Námo, the older Vala thought with a surprising pang.

Mairon swallowed. "Maybe in a little bit? I – I want to stay like this a bit longer. Lord Námo, can you stay?"

The Doomsman nodded, his masked eyes flickering in Manwë's direction.

"I'm not leaving until you want me to, Little One. Or until I get kicked out. Though, if you are not ready to let me go by then, I'll just take you with me."

Manwë glared at the Doomsman with a wounded expression. Námo's expression was blank and innocent-looking, but the Elder King knew when he was being baited.

Most of the time.

Námo _was_ Irmo's older brother. And dealing with the Fëanturi, even when they weren't together, tended to have its pitfalls. Together…Manwë shuddered.

Unless they were in council, they fed off one another until everyone around them more-often-then-not ended up in tears. Either from laughing too hard or from the sheer stress of putting up with them.

Manwë often wondered how Estë and Vairë were so calm with it. Nienna never seemed to be bothered by their antics either, but that could be something to do with the fact that they were her brothers. Sibling immunity and all.

"Since when have I kicked you out?"

* * *

Mairon entered the courtyard. It was late afternoon, but still too early for Varda and her Maiar to start placing the stars in the sky. Despite the fact Arien was still visible to the far west, Tilion was already in the sky to the east. Ilmarë was leaning on the half-wall, watching Isil. Mairon hesitated several feet from her, unsure what to do. Ilmarë's shoulders were hunched, as she continued staring out at the sky.

"I am sorry, Mairon, for what I said and did earlier. You didn't deserve any of it."

The copper-haired Maia bravely looked at her back; she had yet to turn around. "It's okay. You – you have a right to be angry at me. I've caused a lot of harm."

Ilmarë took a deep breath, before turning to face him. Mairon was surprised to see tears glistening in her dark eyes – eyes that normally sparkled like the night sky. Right now, however, they were too filled with tears to properly sparkle.

"No matter what you've done, no one deserves to feel threatened enough they learn to behave like _that_ when someone raises their voice at them. When-when Lady Varda said you react like _that _whenever you feel threatened…I felt terrible. No one should ever be that scared."

Mairon swallowed. He hadn't been expecting this reaction. "Yeah, well…the pain if I didn't submit was even worse. I – I learnt to do it out of self-preservation. Not that it always worked. But, the reminder of the control _He_ had over me sometimes lessened the anger."

Ilmarë took a hesitant half-step towards him. "Varda told me he beat on you when he was angry?"

Mairon snorted softly. "Yes. Though, he also enjoyed intimidating and humiliating me when he was angry."

Ilmarë bowed her head. "How often?"

Mairon swallowed. "While he seemed to be angry all the time, he didn't beat on me too often, all things considered. At least at first. Towards the end, when I fell out of favour, he didn't care so much. When he first came back, he needed me functional, physically and mentally, to lead his armies and plan his battles. He was a hopeless tactician, and he knew it. That one time he took over, he almost sent half his army over a cliff."

Ilmarë's eyes widened. "Really?"

Mairon sighed, hunching his shoulders. "Yeah. Without me…he wouldn't have achieved half of what he did. I may have been coerced into it to begin with, but I still deserve your hate for what I did under him."

Ilmarë's eyes bore into him. "You were coerced? I – I always thought you joined him of your own accord."

Mairon gave a humourless laugh. "I did. Mostly. Though I came to regret it and tried to leave. He – didn't take that well. And took steps to ensure I could never leave him or betray him ever again."

Ilmarë's hands clenched into fists. "Do I want to know what he did?"

Mairon shook his head. "No. You don't. It's…not nice. Just know, by the end of it, I was powerless to do anything that wasn't part of his will."

Ilmarë's eyes searched his face as understanding dawned. "He held you in thrall?"

Mairon nodded. "Yes. And – I'm still not free of him. Even now."

Ilmarë's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Varda told me you're not a threat anymore."

Mairon moved to lean against the half-wall, staring listlessly out at the darkening sky. "I'm not. The Valar made sure of that. This – necklace – I'm wearing…" He reached up and touched it. "It prevents his influence from controlling me. I'm not a threat to any of you, Ilmarë. Especially when I don't even have access to even my Maiarin abilities."

Ilmarë's eyes widened even more. "The Valar bound them? I thought…"

Her voice trailed off. Mairon tilted his head to look at her.

"Yes, they did. They didn't want to. But, it was the only way to ensure Morgoth's influence is kept at bay. At least for now. What did you think had happened to them?"

Ilmarë shook her head. "I – I don't know what I thought."

Mairon went back to looking at the sky. Arien was almost gone now; the first few stars appearing above them. Looking at the darkening sky, Ilmarë sighed.

"I must go and help Varda with the stars. Would you like to come and see what we do, Mairon? I'm sure everyone would welcome the help."

The copper-haired Maia looked at her in surprise. "You want me to come and help?"

Ilmarë nodded. "Yes. While you have done wrong things; I've realised this afternoon you don't deserve to be hated and ostracised for it. Not when you were forced, at least in part, into following Morgoth's orders. I still hate him, and I don't know if I ever won't. But, I think I can learn not to hate you."

Mairon gave a small, but genuine, smile. "Thank you, Ilmarë. That – means more to me than you realise."

The dark-skinned Maia returned the smile. "What are you waiting for then? Let's go play with some stars!"

* * *

Manwë and Varda were in their chambers, getting ready for bed. While the Valar did not sleep like incarnates (or even like the Maiar), they still took several hours each night to rest. As they got ready, they talked over the events of the last day – namely what'd gone down between Ilmarë and Mairon. They also discussed the unexpected results that had come from it. Varda had just finished telling her husband what she'd learnt from her handmaiden. Manwë was still processing this unexpected turn of events.

"It – sounds like this has done them both good. Which I am amazed about. I would've thought it would alienate them from each other even more."

Varda smiled. "What made you think that, Dearest?"

Manwë shook his head. "I don't know. I guess…it is still painful, Varda. Knowing all he did; all he _revelled_ in doing. After seeing all that destruction, I find it hard to believe any good can come out of it. Even when I see the evidence with my own eyes."

Varda laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Everyone is healing, dear. It is slow, but it is happening. Let go of your self-blame; his actions are not your fault."

The Elder King shook his head in disagreement. "At least part of it is. I'm the one who decided to let him go the second time, even though I was counselled against it by almost everyone. I should've listened to you all, or at least consulted with _Atar_ about what to do. In my arrogance and desperation to see my brother return to what he'd once been, I did not even think to do that."

"Mercy is not a bad thing, my dear. I told Ilmarë as much. Mercy is what makes us different to him."

Manwë sighed, allowing Varda to take the comb from his limp hand. "I know. And mercy is the reason Mairon is even here. It's just…"

Manwë trailed off, but Varda understood him without words. The Valië did not say anything until she'd finished brushing out his hair.

"It all worked out for the best so far, my dear. In just one afternoon, Mairon has gained a fierce protector."

Manwë twisted around to look at his wife. His expression was priceless.

"From what I've heard, Ilmarë is glaring anyone who even _looks_ at Mairon wrong into submission! She's become _extremely_ protective of him. Eönwë thinks it's great. Olórin wants to know what in Valinor happened to cause his little brother to gain an overprotective mother hen."

Varda chuckled, before going serious. "She was horrified to learn some of what he's gone through. Seeing him as another victim of Morgoth's brutality has affected her. But the stories are slightly exaggerated, Dear. She isn't _that_ bad."

Manwë sighed. "It wouldn't be such a bad thing if she was. Eönwë will soon leave us for a time; she will be sole chief of the Maiar in his absence. Others are less likely to try anything with Mairon if they know how protective she is of him."

Varda raised an eyebrow. "What sort of things?"

Manwë shook his head. "We don't know. All we know is that Mairon _will_ be targeted. Though Morgoth's gone, his influence remains in the hearts of many."

Varda looked at him in alarm. "We have tainted Maiar among us?"

Manwë nodded. "According to Námo, yes. There are those whose hearts are still turned against us."

Varda swallowed. "And we don't know who they are?"

"No. We don't even know if they are aware of his influence in them. Námo said it's very subtle."

Varda looked at her husband with dismay. "He planted sleeper agents among us?"

Manwë sighed. "We think so. As I said, nothing is clear. But, we do know all will be revealed in time."

Varda's eyes filled with sorrow and pain. "What do we do? Can we help them?"

Manwë looked at her. "All we can do right now, my darling, is wait for them to reveal themselves. Then, and only then, can we help them."

Varda swallowed.

"Are you going to tell the others about this?"

Manwë shook his head.

"Not yet. So far, we have no real proof, and we don't want to drive a wedge between Valar and Maiar. When it becomes relevant, they will all be told. But, right now, all we can do is wait."

* * *

"Have you heard? Ilmarë has taken that little traitor under her protection!"

"I've heard. This is going to make things harder. Eönwë is one thing, and he is going to Middle Earth soon. But his sister is another matter. Though she rarely leaves Taniquetil, she still seems to know everything that happens. What else did your brother tell you?"

"She invited him to help them with the stars and sat next to him at dinner."

"I don't mean that sort of stuff! I mean, have the Valar got wind of anything? They are smart, and I can't let them get in the way. I've waited too long for this. I can't fail now."

"N-Nothing's been said, as far as I know. Though, you can't keep it hidden from them forever."

"I know that, and I don't plan on trying. I just need to keep it hidden long enough to make _Sauron_ pay for what he did. To make him sorry he even _thought_ of joining _Him_ to begin with."

The Maia's voice grew even harder, as they spat the next words out. "I will do whatever it takes to destroy the darkness that destroyed my family. Even if I bring the wrath of the Valar down on my head in the process. At least my family will be avenged."


	11. Lady Yavanna's Chief

**Chapter 11: Lady Yavanna's Chief**

"Are you sure you'll be okay without me?"

For the fifth time in the last hour, Mairon rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Eönwë! I'll be fine. You go teach those Edain how to fend for themselves. Good luck, by the way. You'll need it."

The Herald gave him a panicked look.

"What do you mean 'I'll need it!' You've spent all this time telling me they aren't bad! And now you're telling me I'll need good luck! What haven't you told me?"

Olórin chortled at the innocent look on Mairon's face; Eönwë was too jittery to notice that too-innocent expression. Ilmarë, however, wasn't. Leaning over, the female Maia poked Mairon's arm.

"Don't tease him. That's an order."

Eönwë blinked.

"He's teasing me?"

Ilmarë gave her brother an exasperated look.

"Calm down, for goodness sake! This assignment isn't the end of the world. You're just going to Middle Earth to show those Second Born who are favoured by the Valar how to do a few things that will help ensure their survival on their new island home. See? Easy. You _always_ feel the need to make things more complicated than they need to be."

With that, Ilmarë hugged her brother hard, speaking right into his ear.

"And I will look out for Mairon while you're gone. Don't fret. Besides, you'll be home before we know it."

Eönwë smiled at her, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you, sister. I am worried about leaving him."

The siblings looked to where Mairon and Olórin had retreated to give them privacy to say their goodbyes. The brothers were talking about something; Olórin was very animated with whatever it was. Mairon was listening, nodding every now and again, but not seeming to say much himself. Eönwë turned back to Ilmarë.

"Especially since he's agreed to go spend some time with Aulë and Yavanna next. I'm – not sure I trust all their Maiar. Not enough to not try and cause trouble."

Ilmarë nodded.

"I know how you feel. They associate way too much with Oromë's and Tulkas' folk. There are a lot of familial connections between all their Maiar. And the Valar themselves."

Eönwë agreed.

"Yes, and I don't trust most of Oromë's followers, especially. They have spent too much time hunting down the darkness. They've refused to take breaks from it, and I fear it's wearing on them. They have – an unhealthy attitude when it comes to anything associated with Morgoth."

Ilmarë frowned.

"You think they'll cause trouble? Even with the Valar's decree?"

Eönwë sighed.

"I hope I'm just being paranoid. But, keep an ear open. If you hear anything worrying, tell Lord Manwë. He knows about this; I spoke with him."

Ilmarë nodded.

"Okay. Take care, brother. And come back to us soon."

The siblings embraced one more time. When they broke apart, and after a brief wave to Olórin and Mairon (they'd said their goodbyes before), Eönwë thought himself to the docks of Avallónë where Manwë was waiting to see him off. They had decided (to try and maintain the peace for a while longer) it was better Mairon was not exposed to the Eldar just yet. Therefore, it was just Manwë seeing Eönwë off.

While rumours had been circulating among the elves that Sauron was in Valinor serving the Valar for some time, no one yet had firm evidence. Despite that fact, the reactions were what had been expected. A mixture of shock, horror, disgust, curiosity, hate and rage. The last two came mostly from the returned exiles and the Sindar, both those reborn and those who'd sailed West.

The Valar knew it was only a matter of time before these rumours were confirmed as true. But, they wanted that time to prepare Mairon to handle the onslaught of negativity that would result. He'd made such progress in the past few years. The last thing they wanted was for him to relapse when these negative emotions were thrown his way.

* * *

Staring at his reflection in a small pond, Mairon wondered why he'd ever thought this was a good idea.

Spend a week or two with Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna? Sounded good in theory. But, in practice, it was anything but.

Not that the Valar themselves had been mean or cruel to him, mind you.

Quite the contrary.

Lord Aulë had _delighted_ in showing him around the forges. He'd looked the happiest the Maia had ever seen him while he'd done it as well. His face had beamed as he showed his precious forges off to someone who understood and appreciated them. Mairon had to admit they were nice, and much bigger than the ones in Almaren had been. They were still laid out in a similar way; Aulë was a creature of habit after all. All the Valar were. If something they did once worked, they tended not to stray too much from that method.

Mairon had long since admitted to himself that was part of what had made joining Melkor so appealing. Despite common sense telling him he shouldn't trust the Dark Vala, he'd wanted to push the boundaries of experimentation and creating things beyond what Lord Aulë was doing. Though he hadn't wanted to do it for the reasons Melkor had. He'd just had an insatiable thirst to experiment with the natural world, to learn more about what the elements surrounding him were capable of. He'd been bored with the safe and secure. Wanted to branch out into the unknown, even if that meant danger every once in a while.

He hadn't known back then just how much danger that desire would bring on himself. His intense curiosity, and inability to leave things alone, had been his undoing.

Mairon had so far declined the Vala's offer of using the forges, despite the fact there was something he would have liked to make. But, his memories of the last few times he'd been in a forge were none too bright. Mairon wasn't ready to face them just yet. He was, in truth, rather surprised he could even be in a forge without feeling fear. All those sessions with Lady Nienna, and Lord's Irmo and Námo must really have worked, as difficult as they'd been for him.

The cold reception he'd received during the tour from the few Maiar who were working there had also put somewhat of a damper on his already limited enthusiasm. While Manwë had told him to let the Vala he was staying with know if he felt uncomfortable, he hadn't mentioned anything to Aulë. He didn't want to cause problems between the Maiar and their lord over something so minor. From what Aulë had told him, those in the forge were finally working through some of the problems that had been present while he had worked for Aulë. He didn't want to derail that progress.

Especially because he knew first-hand how hard it was to break habits and fix oneself with no concrete reminders of the past being present. Him turning up like this (even though he'd been invited in by the Vala who owned the place) had the potential to back-fire in a bad way. And Mairon didn't want to cause any more trouble. Even inadvertently.

He was just glad there hadn't been any elves around, as he knew Aulë often taught them. He wasn't sure he would have been able to maintain his equilibrium around _them_.

Lady Yavanna's Maiar, on the other hand, hadn't even looked at him wrong. Though, admittedly, that could have something to do with the Valië hovering over him like a mother hen whenever he wasn't with the Smith. He'd been with them for almost five days now, and this was practically the first time he _hadn't_ been by her side. He'd even been given a private room near theirs to sleep in. They were taking great pains not to let him be by himself.

This was the first time he'd been _allowed_ off on his own without one of them (namely Lady Yavanna) hovering nearby.

For good reason, Mairon knew. The Valar worried about how he would handle all those who hung around both Aulë and Yavanna. And it had been uncomfortable at times, though no one had been outright hostile towards him. Yet. Mairon would not have blamed them, though, if they had been. Despite being constantly told the opposite, part of the Maia still believed he deserved the suspicion and hate.

After all he'd done while in Morgoth's service – even if he hadn't had free will in the matter – some part of Mairon still felt he deserved a harsher punishment than what the Valar had decreed. Being under their constant supervision, having his powers bound, and having to work to prove his sincerity in wanting a second chance did not seem enough to atone for all the evils he had done.

Mairon still felt guilt for much of what he'd done, and was desperate to make atonement. Regardless of the fact the Valar kept insisting Morgoth's actions and decisions weren't his fault.

Sensing he wasn't alone anymore, Mairon looked up, body instinctively tensing. Upon seeing who it was, he forced himself to relax. He knew Elerrína wouldn't hurt him. Not least because her Lady was so protective of him. Besides, they were in Yavanna's private garden in Valmar. Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna were almost the only Valar to live in their mansion there full-time; pretty much everyone else preferred to live in their secondary abodes elsewhere.

"Hallo Mairon. May I sit with you for a while?"

Mairon nodded slowly, going back to staring into the pond. Yavanna's chief Maia gracefully lowered herself to the ground. Violet eyes regarded him thoughtfully, but without hate or judgement. Ever since she'd first met him, the older Maia had regarded him with more curiosity than anything else.

While it was not threatening, Mairon was still unsure how he felt about that. He had to struggle not to squirm under her gaze, or to wrap his arms around himself as a fragile shield against the world.

"Has my Lady been mothering you again?"

Mairon glanced at her briefly, trying to gauge her mood and intentions.

"Yes. I'm grateful for her concern, but…"

Mairon's face coloured, and he averted his eyes, as he struggled to find the right words to express what he was trying to say. The other Maia chuckled softly at his response.

"Don't worry; I know what she is like. I've only served her since before we first came to Eä. Lady Yavanna is a paradox; all who serve her know this. She can be gentle wouldn't-hurt-a-fly one minute, yet leap into a wild, destructive rage the next. But she cares, and is fiercely protective."

Mairon nodded in agreement.

"I realise that. I'm – I'm just not entirely sure I'm worth protecting."

Elerrína gave him a shrewd look.

"The Valar think you are. My Lady believes in their decision regarding you. I trust her judgement. What kind of chief Maia would I be if I didn't?"

Mairon swallowed. He knew his experiences as a chief Maiar (if he could even be called that while with Melkor) were very different from the norm. Not wanting to give no answer to what he felt was more than a rhetorical question, Mairon answered as best he could with a guess.

"Not a very good one?"

Elerrína nodded.

"Precisely. Part of the reason we are the chiefs among our lords' and ladies' Maiar is that we trust them. While it doesn't take a genius to figure out your relationship with your former lord was far from ideal" Elerrína looked at Mairon, gentle sympathy shining in her eyes, "that's not the way it is supposed to work."

Mairon swallowed.

"I know. The Valar have told me as much again and again over the last few years. I'm…trying to understand – and believe – it."

The violet-eyed Maia smiled.

"I can see that. I wish others among us had your wisdom."

Mairon raised his eyes to stare at her.

"Wisdom? Are you saying I have wisdom? I don't think –"

Elerrína gave him a look that made him snap his mouth shut so fast he almost clipped his tongue.

"The way you've accepted that you can't change the past, and are trying to concentrate on the present and future, shows great wisdom. Too many among us are still trapped in the past. Even among the Valar, there are those who are having trouble moving on. And don't even get me started on the elves…" Elerrína grimaced, shaking her head. "Stubborn, headstrong creatures. Yet, they are fascinating as well. Just a pain to deal with. And their stubbornness tends to get them killed. That does not demonstrate wisdom."

Despite himself, Mairon gave a half smile at her condescending tone of voice. Elerrína obviously didn't hold a very high opinion of elven intelligence.

Not that he could blame her for that.

"You are wise. Almost as wise as the Valar."

Elerrína gave a soft laugh.

"I can't claim their wisdom, but I am one of the oldest among the Maiar here in Eä, Mairon. Only Eönwë and Ilmarë are older. I've been through a lot; and I have experienced a lot. I – understand pain, and suffering, and heartache. But, I also understand love, and joy, and peace. I've learnt to move on from the negative things life throws at you, and to focus on the positives." Elerrína swallowed, looking at the ground. Her voice grew softer. "Unlike my sister. Her mind is still on Middle Earth. Despite her husband being in Mandos, and her daughter having passed beyond the circles of the world, she is still having trouble accepting all she's lost."

Mairon looked up in horror.

"No…she isn't…"

Elerrína gave a soft sigh.

"Yes. My sister is Melian; she has insisted on keeping her Sindarin name since returning. As I said, still caught in the past. Her husband is Elu Thingol, that stubborn old Sindar elf king, and their daughter was Lúthien. I understand you met her once?"

Mairon swallowed.

"You – you could put it that way."

For the first time in their conversation, Elerrína hesitated.

"Mairon, I'm sorry if this hurts you, but I need understanding. …why did you almost hand Lúthien over to Morgoth? Melian doesn't understand how you could betray us like that. Joining Morgoth is one thing. He was a Vala at the time and many Maiar turned to him. But, trying to capture Lúthien…"

Mairon hunched in on himself as she spoke. He fiddled with his fingers, picking at several spots of dry, peeling skin around his fingernails. Elerrína spoke softly, but with a note of finality in her voice.

"I'm not mad about it, Mairon. However, Melian feels betrayed, and I can sympathise with her. I would just like an explanation. I'll not judge whatever you tell me. It will help me understand why you did what you did. In turn, I can hopefully help my sister move on. Though I will not repeat what you tell me to anyone, not even Yavanna or Melian, without your consent. I promise you this, in the name of the Valar."

Mairon took a deep breath, trying to sort through his tangled thoughts. He didn't put much faith in oaths. Not anymore, not after everything that'd happened. Though he knew on an instinctive level Elerrína would not betray his trust, Mairon decided to still be careful what he said. Not that he didn't intend to do that anyway; even thinking of those events was painful. Out of all the things he'd done while under Morgoth, the whole debacle with Lúthien, Huan and Beren was one of his biggest regrets. And one of the few things he'd done freely.

Sure, Morgoth's taint had influenced his actions, but he hadn't been directly ordered to capture Lúthien.

He'd come up with that idea on his own. Elerrína was right. Melian was owed some explanation for his actions towards her daughter.

"I – I'd just lost the Elvenking Finrod through my underling's incompetence. I knew Morgoth would be mad about that. And him being mad," Mairon involuntarily winced, his voice faltering for a moment. "It- it never ended well for whomever he was mad at. Which, in that case, would be me, no matter who it was who had committed the original blunder. Those troops were under my command, therefore, anything that went awry was my fault. I was trying to figure out a way to escape punishment when she just…turned up on my front doorstep." Mairon recovered his composure a little at this, allowing some of the indignation he still felt about this to shine through. "She didn't even knock, just tried to march right in and take over. Talk about rude."

Elerrína gave a surprisingly lady-like snort of amusement.

"She was half-elven, and Thingol was her father to boot. Remember what I said earlier about elven stubbornness getting them killed?"

Mairon sighed. His momentary good mood vanished as he thought back on those events.

"Anyway, her appearance seemed to give me an answer to my problems. I knew Morgoth hated and feared Melian. I thought, if I could give him her daughter…"

By this point, Mairon was subconsciously hunched into as small a ball as he could manage. He'd picked at one spot on his finger so much, a few spots of blood were welling up. Elerrína looked curious, yet her face was free from judgement. Though she did reach out, slowly, (ever so slowly) to gently pull Mairon's hands apart so he would stop hurting himself. When the silence stretched on, she spoke softly.

"I understand. You wanted to avoid being hurt. What happened afterward?"

Mairon did not lift his head from where he'd buried it in his drawn-up knees.

"I – severely underestimated her. She was one scary and determined Lady. I also didn't realise at first Huan was helping her. My scouts somehow forgot to mention _that_ small detail. By the time I realised my original plan was not going to work…it was too late to do anything but try and minimise the damage she did. She came in prepared to face me; I was not ready for her."

Elerrína's face was a study.

"She bested you?"

Mairon winced.

"Yes?" He said, Elerrína's question a gentler copy of Melkor's very words. Unbidden, the same excuses he'd given his Master (ex-Master?) fell from his lips. "But I was unprepared. And Huan helped her."

Elerrína was quick to apologise.

"I'm sorry, Mairon. That was insensitive of me. I – just didn't expect to hear that. She was really that powerful?"

Mairon nodded, keeping his eyes trained on his knees, which were drawn tightly against his chest. Elerrína sighed, her gaze becoming wistful.

"I kind of wish I'd met her now. But the past is the past, no use dwelling on it."

They sat in silence for a few moments. During that time, Mairon went back to picking at his fingers, refusing to even glance in Elerrína's direction. Finally, the older Maia spoke.

"Mairon…after it was all over, and they had their jewel, did he...?"

At that question, the copper-haired Maia lifted his head to look at the violet-eyed female.

"Oh, Morgoth was furious about the whole thing. He at least did realise I'd done all in my power to help him win, though I still ended up with several new scars. The worse were the ones Huan left in my neck, which I honestly can't blame him for. I – there is a reason I always wear high collars. I have since it happened." Mairon's hand went subconsciously to his throat, hidden beneath a layer of soft fabric. "He also kept a very close eye on me for a long while after that, looking for even a _hint _I wasn't as loyal to him as I appeared. As if I could betray him. Those – those were difficult years. And his temper only worsened as time went on. He did not take being beaten by a half Ainur/half elf female, and a mortal man, at all well."

"It showed everyone – and reminded him – that he was not invincible. He hated being reminded he could be beaten. Unfortunately, after that, the reminders seemed to come more and more. That event was the point where his power on Middle Earth started crumbling. It was a slow decline, but everything that happened afterwards was heading towards the end game."

Elerrína was silent when he finished. It was a while before she spoke.

"Thank you for telling me all this, Mairon. I now understand a little better why you did what you did, and it will help me to try and help my sister. I won't tell her what happened, but I will be able to tell her it was nothing personal. Do you mind if I tell her you were afraid of the consequences? By this point, I think it's common knowledge He was not nice to you."

Mairon nodded his consent.

"That's fine. You are right. Everyone knows he hurt me. Though, only the Valar know just how bad it was."

Elerrína started at his admitting to a fact they all knew about. It seemed her Lady had been right. The Maia wondered why she was surprised about that. Yavanna generally knew what she was doing.

"I may not know what happened, but I can hazard a guess it was anything but pleasant. While I was never targeted by him, I know others who were. And they were all very powerful; that seemed to be one of his pre-requisites for recruiting Maiar. They had to be strong and powerful. To this day, I don't know how I escaped his advances. Though I suspect it was to do with me being Yavanna's. Because, like you, I associate with two elements; earth and air. And he seemed to like our kind especially."

Mairon looked at her with wide eyes.

"Really? There aren't a lot of us like that."

Elerrína shrugged.

"There are actually more than you'd think, but not all of them are as powerful. Being part of two elements does not guarantee power. Gothmog was purely a fire spirit. Yet, his strength exceeded mine, even before Morgoth corrupted him."

Mairon looked at her. His voice wasn't above a whisper.

"You knew Gothmog?"

Elerrína nodded.

"Yes. He – was obsessed with me at one point." She grimaced. "When we were still in the Timeless Halls. In the end, Yavanna intervened, saving me from his advances. That…was what made me decide to follow her to Eä."

Mairon stared at the ground. Elerrína noticed, and tactfully changed the subject.

"But," She took a deep breath and settling into a more comfortable position, "that's in the past now. Tell me, Mairon. How are you finding life in Valinor?"


	12. Burnt

**Chapter 12: Burnt**

"Here we are. The storage space for the gemstones. You mentioned wanting to use a stone in this project?"

Mairon nodded.

"Yes. Do you have any emeralds, about this big?"

At seeing the size he was thinking of, Aulë nodded.

"I believe I do have some offcuts close to that size. It won't take long to shape them. Let me see, they should be over here. Or, no. We moved them from there. Ah, yes, over here..."

As the Vala searched for the gem, Mairon thought about his reception upon arriving at the forge this morning. Like the first time he'd come here, the Maiar who worked for the Smith had given him looks Mairon had steadfastly ignored. He still hadn't seen anyone he'd once known. Or at least, he didn't _think _he'd seen anyone he'd once known. Which was a relief in a way; and at least no one had outright tried to attack him – verbally or physically – yet. But, he couldn't help wondering if they were avoiding him on purpose.

Especially Urunírë. Mairon had never gotten on very well with Aulë's chief Maia for reasons he'd never quite figured out. No matter what he'd done, the older Maia had never been happy with his work, nor appeared to even like him. Not that anyone else had either. But, Urunírë's behaviour had always seemed more antagonistic than everyone else's had, in a way. To see him admiring and praising Curumo's work but barely glancing at his (which had been done heaps better) had really hurt. It was true those two were brothers by marriage of their siblings; a little favouritism was to be expected. But, Curumo hadn't been the only one whose work Urunírë had praised, while simultaneously ignoring Mairon's.

The younger Maia hadn't understood what he'd done wrong then, and still didn't. Urunírë had never told him (or really spoken to him at all), and he'd been too scared to ask.

"Aha! Found them." Aulë's delighted voice brought Mairon back to the present. Coming over to where the Maia was patiently waiting, the Smith held out a small green gem.

"Is this what you wanted?"

Turning it over carefully in his hands, Mairon nodded.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I've told you Mairon, if ever you want to make something, you're more than welcome. That includes any necessary – or superfluous – materials." Aulë gave a bright smile, before throwing the Maia a keen look. "What are you wanting to make? I've already said you're free to use my forge. Everyone here tends to have _their_ section of the forges, but I don't mind sharing mine."

Mairon nodded, pushing away the momentary unease the idea of working with Lord Aulë brought up.

He would be fine. He just had to keep telling himself that.

"I – would like to make a necklace. With a silver chain, and this for the pendant. I have a drawing of it here."

Mairon extracted the slightly crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket, trying in vain to flatten it. Finally giving up, he handed it to the Smith as it was. Aulë examined the drawing carefully before he smiled.

"This is beautiful, Mairon. Is it for anyone in particular?"

Mairon blushed.

"Yes, but I'd rather not tell."

Aulë chuckled.

"That's fine. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. Now, you'll be wanting some silver?"

The Maia nodded.

"Yes, please. If that's okay?"

Aulë was already heading towards the place where the nuggets of raw metals were kept. Mairon watched him chip off a piece, before coming back over.

"And here is the silver. Will this be enough?"

After carefully weighing it in his hand, Mairon nodded.

"It should be. I don't want it to be chunky. I want the chain to be delicate and slender. And the setting for the gem won't take a lot of silver to make."

After making sure Mairon had everything he needed, Aulë went back to working on his own project nearby. He kept up a steady stream of chatter while he worked, and Mairon revealed in it. How often had he dreamt of having Lord Aulë love and value him, and help him with projects like he hadn't done since Mairon's early days as an apprentice?

Now, it seemed, he had everything he'd ever wanted.

Yet, instead of filling the hole inside of him, Mairon found there was something missing. Or, maybe it was that he'd changed so much since leaving Aulë's service. Those wants and dreams had belonged to the old Mairon. The one Morgoth had destroyed. Mairon knew he was not the same as he'd once been. And he could never be that person again.

He'd been through too much.

Deep in thought, Mairon reached into the fire for the link of the chain he was making without putting on gloves or picking up tongs. While he'd always used them out of habit (and so as not to freak others out), they were not necessary for him. Fire and heat had never affected him like it did others. It was a side effect of having part of that element composing his soul. Even when Melkor had re-modelled him, he had left that part of Mairon's abilities well alone.

With his mind full of these thoughts, it took a few moments for Mairon to notice the pain.

The burning pain that encompassed his entire right hand.

A burning pain that made Mairon scream in agony when it registered.

Yanking his arm back, he crumbled to the floor, nursing his charred hand to his chest in disbelief. Aulë was there in an instant, eyes full of worry as he asked questions. But, Mairon could not hear him over the blood pounding in his ears.

The fire had _hurt_. The fire had burnt him.

**Fire** had _burnt him_.

He, a creature of fire and earth, had been_ burnt _by his own element…

Through the confusion and pain, Mairon was dimly aware of being picked up. The world then tilted alarmingly to one side, as it did whenever someone thought him someone without shielding him, before everything settled, another presence entering his consciousness. His mind was still too hazy to figure out who it was. But, when the person touched his burnt hand, the Maia cried out, shying away.

Mairon didn't know how long it took, but suddenly the pain in his hand became muffled, the fog in his mind receding a bit. Opening his eyes in bewilderment, Mairon met the concerned gaze of the Lady Estë. Seeing she had his attention, the Valië spoke calmly.

"Mairon. I need you to stay very still and allow me to touch your hand, okay? I need access to be able to heal it, and stop the pain."

After a second of hesitation, Mairon nodded, allowing the Healer to remove the hand from his chest. Mairon scrunched his eyes closed, another wave of pain assaulting him at the movement. Though the pain was muted in Estë's presence, it was still there. While it was nothing compared to the pain currently burning in his soul, Mairon still wanted it gone.

He hated pain so much.

Estë gently touched the charred flesh with cool fingers, closing her eyes. Moments later, a healing warmth spread through his hand and lower arm. Estë softly began singing, her hands glowing yellow-gold as she healed the damage. While her words were indiscernible, the soothing sound helped calm him down.

Finally, the healer opened her eyes.

"All done. How does it feel?"

Mairon carefully flexed his hand, finding no pain in the movement. Opening his eyes, he looked down at unblemished skin. He turned it several different directions, expecting at any second to see charred skin, and to feel the pain return. But it never happened. Finally, the Maia spoke softly.

"Better. Where am I? This isn't the forge."

His voice was hoarse. Estë offered him water, which he gratefully accepted.

"You're in my house in Lórien. Aulë bought you here so I could help you."

When he'd had enough water, Mairon cuddled back into the comforting embrace of the Vala who was still holding him. Aulë raised an eyebrow at the Maia's open display of affection, giving Estë a helpless look.

*What do I do? He-he's never cuddled me before.*

Estë's answer was gentle.

*You cuddle him back, and reassure him everything is okay. Mairon – is very affectionate, and highly tactile. It doesn't take much physical contact to make him extremely happy.*

Aulë swallowed.

*I – never knew that. Has he always been like this?*

Estë nodded.

*As far as we can tell, yes. His love of physical contact is almost as great as his desire to please. He'll work himself past the point of exhaustion if he thinks he will be rewarded with even a few words of praise. Námo has had to monitor him very closely to ensure he doesn't overdo it.*

Aulë looked like he was fighting back tears, which was most uncharacteristic for the Smith. Estë looked at him with gentle sympathy.

*Are you alright?*

After a few moments, Aulë managed a nod.

*I – think I will be. Maybe. I just – I have failed Mairon so badly. I always thought he didn't like being touched. He always went stiff whenever I went to do it.*

The healer's mental voice held no condemnation.

*And how often did you attempt to do it?*

Aulë looked guilty.

*Obliviously not as often as I should have. I didn't praise him much either.*

Their conversation abruptly ended as Mairon stirred in his arms. Sitting up, the Maia blinked at his surroundings in disorientation, before looking up at Aulë.

"Lord Aulë?"

The Smith reflexively tightened his grip on the Maia.

"Yes, Mairon?"

Mairon's golden eyes were filled with tears.

"I-I was burnt. By fire. My own element burnt me! W-why did it do that? Even after Melkor's violations, that didn't happen! I've never been burnt by fire before!"

He sounded devastated, and Aulë didn't feel much better. Especially as he didn't have an answer for the Maia. The silence stretched on, Mairon waiting for an answer Aulë did not have. Lost in their own little world as they were, both started when Estë spoke.

"I have a theory as to 'why'." The Valië looked apologetic and very sympathetic. "One of your elements is fire, correct?"

At Mairon's nod of affirmation, Estë continued in a softer voice.

"My theory is that your 'fire-proof-ness' stems from your Maiarin fire abilities. As you…currently don't have access to them…"

At this, Estë hesitated, unsure how to proceed. But, she didn't need to. As her words sunk in, Mairon let out a heartbroken sob. He cradled the hand that had been burnt close to his chest once more, wrapping his other hand around it as if to shield it from everything.

"Y-you are saying b-because my a-abilities are b-bound, I c-cannot…?"

Estë bowed her head.

"It's just a theory, Mairon. But it does fit all the evidence. I'm sorry."

Tears began leaking out of Mairon's eyes. But his voice was steady when he looked at Estë.

"I want Lord Námo. Please."

Aulë blinked, but Estë was not surprised by his request.

"Okay."

The Valië closed her eyes. Reaching out with her mind into Mandos, she sought out her brother-in-law. It didn't take long to find him, and even less time to explain what had happened. Within seconds of Estë touching his mind, the eldest of the Fëanturi materialised in front of them in a flash of incandescent lights. While his face was impassive and his eyes masked like usual, his voice betrayed his concern.

"Mairon?"

Without a word, the Maia extracted his body from Aulë's embrace, throwing himself at Námo. The Judge of the Dead deftly caught him, wrapping both arms around his trembling fana. Going to his knees, Námo pulled Mairon onto his lap. The Maia buried his face in the Doomsman's chest and started crying, uncaring of the fact Estë and Aulë were watching. He wrapped his 'good' hand into the Doomsman's robe, allowing his 'bad' hand to stay protected, sandwiched between the two of them. The Vala soothingly rubbed Mairon's shaking back and shoulders, humming softly to him all the while. When the Maia had calmed a little, Námo looked at Aulë and Estë with concern.

*What happened?*

Estë mentally told him the whole story. When she'd finished, Námo was silent for a long time.

His expression and posture gave nothing away, so Aulë couldn't tell what his fellow Vala was thinking. But, that he didn't attempt to stand up, or stop rubbing Mairon's back, said more than words ever could. And those actions cut deeply into Aulë's heart.

Watching the gentle caring way Námo handled the small Maia, and seeing Mairon's obvious trust in the other Vala, hurt the Smith. He'd known Mairon was very close to the Doomsman. But he hadn't realised – until this moment – the depths of trust their relationship was built on. A depth of trust he'd never had with the Maia, and probably never _would_ have.

There was just too much negative history between them.

When Mairon had first agreed to spend some time with him and Yavanna, Aulë had had a moment of hope. Hope that the Maia would come back and serve him permanently; hope that, by some miracle, things might return to what they used to be. He wanted to have Mairon back, to be given a second chance to do the right thing by him.

*Aulë.*

At hearing his name, the Smith blinked, looking up at Námo. The Doomsman's impassive look gave away nothing of what he was feeling or thinking. Unlike the Smith. He knew his emotions were written all over his face.

*Yes, Námo?*

*You're not angry at Mairon, are you?*

Aulë was stunned.

*Why would I be angry at him?! He's done nothing wrong!*

Námo's mental voice was calm.

*The way you are looking at us suggests otherwise. It is me you're angry at? Perhaps because he wanted me for comfort, not you?*

Aulë dropped his head. Estë, at Námo's silent bequest, vanished, giving them privacy.

*I'm not angry at you for that. Or him. I just wish…*

The Smith studied his hands, trying to think of how to voice what he was feeling. As he did so, he couldn't help noting his hands were large, callused, and rough from all the heavy manual work he did. They were the opposite of Námo's, Aulë realised distantly. The Vala of the Dead waiting patiently for him to speak; his smaller, much smoother hands continued to gently rub the Maia's back. Mairon, exhausted from all that had happened, had since quieted down, and now drowsed in his arms.

*I wish…I'd looked after him better the first time. He-he left because he didn't feel loved or wanted by me. I – am trying to make him feel loved and wanted this time, because I do love and want him. But…*

Aulë looked at the other Vala briefly, before his gaze came to rest on the shiny copper hair.

*I feel I've missed my chance with him. While these last few days have been nice, there – is something between us that makes it awkward. No matter how hard I try to make it go away. It's like there is some invisible wall between us, preventing me getting close.*

Námo's expression was still unreadable, but his mental voice had taken on a gentler tone.

*You're both different now to what you were back then. Mairon, especially, has changed. Almost beyond recognition. He's not the same Maia you remember. You need to accept that and look to the future. You'll never get anywhere if you keep comparing events now to events in the past. I've told Mairon the same thing many times. He needs to see those around him doing the right thing. He needs to see that it's okay to move on; that it's okay not to be the same. That he doesn't need to try and force himself to be the same as he was to please others.*

Aulë swallowed.

*Is that why he trusts you?*

Námo looked down at Mairon.

*Perhaps. He and I started from scratch. We had no prior history to contend with when he entered my care. That did make it easier for us than it is for you and him. I had the advantage of not having known him before. All I know is what he is now. Though, even I was surprised he came to trust me so completely in such a short space of time.*

Aulë looked at Námo's face. Or, more specifically, at his masked eyes.

*You're obviously doing something right then, pitya otorno.*(little brother)

Before Námo could reply, Mairon stirred. Cracking his eyes open, the Maia gave him a bleary look.

"You stopped rubbing my back."

The Doomsman looked amused at the accusatory tone, and obligingly started giving the Maia another back massage. Melting back into him, Mairon made a sound that was not dissimilar to a purr. Námo's lips twitched at the stunned look on Aulë's face, as Mairon did his best impersonation of a cat.

"I suppose I am. Mai, are you coherent enough to hold an intelligent conversation yet?"

He received a muttered 'no' in response. Internally chuckling at the impertinence in that one word, Námo changed the rhythm of the back rub. Rubbing his hand in the other direction, he used the change in tempo to bring Mairon back to the waking world.

It worked like a charm.

Ignoring the grumbling being made to wake up caused, Námo lovingly looked down at the Maia.

"Back with us now?"

Mairon nodded.

"Yes. But why did you have to wake me?"

"Because we have a few things we need to talk about. Estë told me what happened with your hand. You've never been burnt before?"

Mairon gave a dejected sigh, shaking his head.

"No. Never. Fire has never affected me like that." He grimaced. "Well, dragon fire did a bit, but I've never been burn in the forge. That fire has always felt welcoming. I've always felt like I was a part of it; like it made me complete. Do you – do you think Lady Estë is right?"

Námo's facial expression did not change.

"I think she might be."

Mairon rubbed his eyes. Both Valar ignored the tears he rubbed away with the motion.

"Great. Yet another thing_ He's_ taken from me."

Aulë looked shattered.

"I – I didn't mean this to happen, Mairon. I never meant this to happen when I made that necklace. I had no idea it would do…this."

The Maia shrugged, looking at the Smith with red-rimmed eyes.

"I know. You-you just wanted to protect me. It's not your fault Morgoth broke me into a million pieces, and then destroyed half of them."

Aulë dropped his gaze.

"I feel it is."

Mairon rolled his eyes.

"Well it isn't, so stop blaming yourself."

Aulë looked at the Maia in exasperation.

"You only left because I failed to look after and love you as you deserved!"

Mairon's steely expression wavered.

"That wasn't –"

Aulë was not finished.

"That might not be the sole reason you left, but it contributed to it. Didn't it?"

Mairon curled in on himself a little, before nodding.

"That – that did influence my decision to leave. I-I never intended to betray you like that. And, I never intended to use the skills you taught me for evil. I…"

Mairon looked down. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I just wanted to be loved and appreciated. And to feel wanted. Not – not just be another occasionally useful tool."

Mairon's laugh was bitter, lacking any real humour.

"I soon learnt what it is to truly be treated like a tool. And I wasn't always a useful one."

* * *

**Not sure where Námo giving Aulë a pep-talk came from, but OK…**


	13. Aftermath…and Arien

**Chapter 13: Aftermath…and Arien**

Aulë's expression was a mix between heartbroken and furious at the matter-of-fact way Mairon called himself a tool. His eyebrows bunched as he frowned, his eyes mirroring the heart that kept shattering at each new revelation of Mairon's treatment while with Morgoth. Námo decided the Smith hadn't looked this mad since they'd seen Mairon's memories of what Morgoth had done to him.

"You're more than that, Mairon." Aulë assured him, struggling to school his facial expressions into something none-threatening as Mairon shrunk back from him, closer to Námo. "And, if I ever get hold of _him_ again, I'm going to strangle the life out of him with my bare hands. I don't care that he is immortal. I'll find a way to permanently end him. Somehow…"

Námo, who had remained silent throughout their conversation, now raised both eyebrows at the murderous Smith.

"You'll have to wait until I've finished with him, I'm afraid. I'm first in line."

Aulë didn't look happy with that idea.

"But you have more of a chance of killing him then I have! It makes more sense to let me at him first, and then you can finish off what's left."

If Mairon's eyes got any bigger, they ran a real risk of falling out of his head.

"Are you seriously discussing who's going to have the first go at _murdering_ Morgoth?"

Námo gave him an impassive look.

"It appears so."

Mairon was so stunned, he could do nothing but blink. Seeing his expression, Aulë calmed down a little.

"What he did to you was unacceptable, Mairon. Even if you had deserved it, which you _did not_, what he did was wrong in every way. And he was never sorry about any of it, which makes it even worse."

Mairon nodded in agreement.

"Yeh. He didn't know the meaning of that word. At least, not when it applied to himself. He knew how to make sure others were sorry."

There was silence for a long time after his statement. Finally, Námo broke it.

"Mairon. Are you ready to go back with Aulë, or would you prefer to go somewhere else?"

The Maia thought over his choices before looking up at them.

"I – I would like to go back and stay with Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna until the end of the week. If that's okay?"

This question was addressed to both the Valar. Aulë nodded.

"Of course it is, Mairon. You can stay with us for as long as you like. More than a week if you want to."

Mairon shook his head.

"No. I – don't think I want that. And your Maiar still don't like me. Neither do the elves. But I'll stay for a couple more days."

Aulë swallowed.

"I'm working on fixing that, Mairon. But healing the hurt and hate takes time."

The Maia shrugged.

"They have the right to their emotions. But that doesn't mean I want to be surrounded by it. And after I've finished with you…" Mairon hesitated for a moment. "Would Lord Irmo have me, do you think?"

This question was addressed to Námo, who nodded.

"I think he would. Why don't you ask him yourself?"

At his words, the younger of the Fëanturi materialised in front of them in a blaze of light like his older brother had. The manner of entry was where the resemblance ended, however. Irmo's robe was sparkling white, with a rainbow coloured sash wrapped around his hips and waist. Matching rainbow embroidery decorated the bottom hem of the robe, as well as the hems of the long sleeves. His facial markings were prominently displayed, and his silver hair and eyes glowed. All in all, it was very unlike Námo's hooded black robes and masked expression that hid his identical facial markings, black/blue hair, and silver eyes from view.

The physical contrast between the brothers was so startling, Aulë blinked a few times. He hadn't spent enough time around the Fëanturi when they were incarnate and not in council to not be startled by the way they tended to appear without warning. And, here in his own gardens (where Aulë had brought Mairon to see Estë), Irmo rarely bothered to even try and act mature. Raising a silver-eyebrow at the Smith's stunned expression, the Valar of Dreams and Desires smirked. Then, he turned his attention to his older brother and the Maia curled up in his arms.

"You want to ask me something, Mairon?"

Irmo's voice and expression were warm and inviting. The Maia nodded, sitting up. He'd spent enough time around Irmo that his entrance hadn't affected him like it had the Smith. While he didn't have the bond with Irmo he did with Námo, he trusted the younger brother not to hurt him, and didn't fear him.

Especially when it'd been Irmo who'd protected him from nightmares when he'd first arrived. Irmo who'd patiently taught him how to bring order back into his then-shattered thoughts. Irmo who'd always being gentle and calm while helping Mairon start to put the shattered pieces of his soul back together.

"Yes. I'm wondering – when I have finished my week with Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna – if, maybe, you would let me stay here for a while? With you and the Lady Estë? I will try not to be any trouble…"

Irmo was already nodded, a wide smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Of course you're welcome to stay here, Mairon. We would both love having you. It seems like such a long time since we last saw you. While we are happy you are doing so well, we have missed you."

Mairon smiled a little.

"I've missed you all as well."

His words were addressed to both the brothers. Irmo smiled even brighter at hearing that, his silver eyes lighting up. Námo's expression, predictably, did not change, but his approval could be felt. An idea suddenly popping into his head (as they were wont to do), Irmo gave Aulë a wicked glance. Not having had much experience with Irmo and his brand of mischief, the Smith didn't notice the look.

He was too wrapped up in trying to put his own thoughts and feelings in order. Though, he did look up when Irmo started talking.

"Though, why anyone would miss Old Doom-and-Gloom here, I'm not sure. Me, I get. I have a _much _better sense of humour than my darling brother. _He_ wouldn't know humour if it hit him in the face."

At seeing Aulë's stunned look, Námo couldn't resist joining in the teasing. He _was _Irmo's brother after all. He just had a subtler way of doing things.

"Is that what gave me a bruise the other day? I thought for a second it had broken my nose. Is that what humour feels like?"

His tone was dryer than a desert, lacking even a hint of amusement. Mairon gave a sudden giggle. Aulë's expression rapidly turned to one of horror, as Irmo responded in a shocked voice.

"So that's where that bit of humour went! Did you manage to catch it? I was using it in a recipe for a dream involving pink flamingos, purple snow, and yellow cream cakes…"

The Smith looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh, or run away as fast as he could. Luckily for him, he was saved from having to decide by the timely arrived of Estë. She appeared in time to smack her husband over the back of his head. Caught off guard as he was, Irmo didn't even have time to duck. Which had been her intention.

"Stop baiting Aulë. It's unseemly. Besides, you're needed elsewhere."

Irmo dropped the playful, mischievous attitude like a hot brick. The smile on his face disappeared as he straightened perceptibly, though his posture had been impeccable moments before.

"Is it who I think it is?"

Estë nodded.

"Yes. She's waiting."

Irmo vanished without another word. Estë turned back to the two remaining Valar.

"Do you need anything else, or can I go back to sleep now? I have about three hours let before it's night time."

* * *

_Lórien, a few days later._

"Mairon, you have a visitor."

The Maia looked up in surprise at the Lady Estë. He was lying on his back in the thick grass in a grove near her lake, watching the stars.

"Who? It's night time; people don't normally visit at night. Unless they are you."

The Valië smiled.

"For some, night is the only time they have to visit. Shall I show her in?"

Intrigued, Mairon nodded, sitting up. Without another word, Estë vanished, and someone else took her place. Someone with glowing orange hair and eyes, and yellow-gold skin.

Mairon sat there frozen, staring at his visitor in shock. Finally, he found his voice.

"Arien?"

His elder sister nodded.

"Yes, Mairon. It is I."

The younger Maia did not know how to react, and so continued to just sit there. Knowing she didn't have much time, Arien slowly moved towards her youngest brother. Sitting down opposite him, the fire Maia hesitated.

"May I hug you? Please?"

Mairon swallowed.

"If you would like."

Arien didn't need to be told twice, instantly throwing her arms around him. The force of his sister's hug almost knocked Mairon over; it contained almost more force then his first hug with Olórin had. Regaining his balance, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her in return. Arien buried her face in his shoulder, and Mairon was alarmed to realise her shoulders were shaking with sobs.

"Why are you crying?"

Arien looked down at him with red-rimmed eyes. She was well over a head taller than Mairon; the top of his head barely reached her chest, even sitting. She was way taller in fana than even Olórin was.

"I'm crying because you're back, and you are safe. Every day since _Anar_ first rose, I've looked for you as I traversed the circles of the sky, littlest brother. But, no matter how hard I looked, I could never find you."

Mairon stilled.

"I thought you didn't like me. You never came to see me when I worked for Lord Aulë, and at festivals and feasts in Almaren, you ignored me. I spent many hours wondering what I had done wrong."

Arien's eyes filled with tears again, as she hugged him fiercely.

"Oh, littlest brother. You did nothing wrong. It was I. I thought you too young and childish and thus treated you as such. The blame is with me, not you. I'm the older one; I should have behaved like an adult and looked after you. _Atar_ gave us siblings so we would look after and love one another. I failed you in that task, Mairon. You did nothing wrong."

Mairon smiled wryly.

"Well, I did kind of join Melkor and try to subjugate the world. I'd say I've done plenty wrong."

Arien's laugh was brittle, lacking any real humour.

"You did nothing wrong regarding me, Mai. And I want you to know, despite all that has happened, I still love you. I've always loved you. I was just very bad at showing it before."

Mairon sighed, a weight in his heart he hadn't realised was there falling away as he rested his head on his sister's chest. While she'd dimmed her natural aura in deference to his still light-sensitive eyes (though he could tolerate full sunlight in short spells now), she radiated heat like a furnace. Mairon found it very soothing.

"We really are a dysfunctional family, aren't we? And people think the Fëanorians had problems."

Arien gave a genuine sounding chuckle.

"And they certainly do. I've witnessed firsthand the destruction and chaos they caused, both in Valinor and on Middle Earth. But, knowing what I know now, I feel Melkor and his lies were to blame for much of what happened between us. I feel it was only after I rejected him that he set his sights on you. Probably partially in revenge, and partially because he wanted your skills on his side. There aren't a lot like you, Mairon, having mastery of both fire and earth."

The Maia's shoulders slumped.

"I know, and look at where being special got me. Enslaved by Melkor for thousands of years."

Arien looked at him, pain shining in her bright orange eyes.

"Yes, I heard something of the like from Lady Varda. She told me your service to him was not entirely voluntary; that he forced you to do much of what you did?"

Mairon wordlessly nodded. Arien hugged him tighter.

"I'm sorry that happened, Mai. So sorry. I am also sorry beyond words I never did anything to help you. At least you are free of him now." At Mairon's head shake, his sister frowned. "You're not?"

Mairon shook his head again.

"No. His influence in me runs deep. I'm not yet free of his enslavement, and won't be for a long time. If ever. The Valar keep telling me to give it time. But, Arien…I'm afraid no matter how much time passes, I'll never be truly free of him."

His sister's eyes were sad.

"I'm sure you will be one day. You're one of the strongest, if not _the_ strongest, Maia I know, Mairon. Never doubt your inner strength."

At the sceptical look she received, Arien sighed.

"Don't forget; he targeted me first, Mai. I was one of the few fire Maiar to resist being corrupted by him. And I was far from the strongest of them; some who were stronger than I fell very quickly. He knew just how to play people to get what he wanted. It's not your fault. And, please don't take this the wrong way, but you were very young. He took advantage of that."

Mairon sighed. Cuddling into his sister more, he basked in her heat. Hugging Arien was like hugging a furnace.

"Yeh. I was. But I wanted what he offered, Ari. Even though I knew he couldn't be trusted, I foolishly chose to believe him. There's nothing strong about that."

"How much duress did he put you under, Mai?"

The smaller Maia tried looking away. Arien gently caught his chin, refusing to let him.

"Mairon."

The Maia sighed.

"Not that much, actually. Not like what happened later, after I joined him. Looking back, yes, he did threaten me a bit; though, he preyed on my desires and curiosity more than anything else. But, if I'd been brave enough to have gone to one of the other Vala about what he'd said and done instead of keeping quiet…"

"When everything you love and care about it at stake, it's often very hard to speak up. You're worried that breaking the silence will only make it worse. That no one will believe you, and the threats will turn into reality. When you are simultaneously being offered all your heart desires, it's far easier to just go along with it. More fun as well. I understand, littlest brother. More than you realise. He – he promised to make me his queen; said I would rule the world by his side, if I would just join him. Unfortunately for him, I had no desire to be a queen, rule the world, or defy either Eru or the Valar."

Mairon said nothing in response. He knew about what had happened to Arien. Melkor had once told him, in great detail, what he'd tried to do and wanted to do to the fire Maia. There was nothing else to say.

The siblings sat there for a while longer, simply enjoying each other's presence as their estranged relationship started mending. Finally, Arien sighed, gently pulling away.

"I'm sorry, Mai, but I must go now. I need to get some rest before _Anar _is due to rise over Middle Earth. If I can, I will come back and see you again some time. But, I cannot make any promises. My first duty is to the Valar, and they gave me the job of guiding _Anar_ until the Breaking of Arda. This meeting is only possible because they made some very special exceptions."

Arien lent over, kissing her youngest brother's forehead gently as she gave him a final hug.

"Know that, no matter what happens, I love you, Mairon. I always have, and I always will. Goodbye for now, my littlest brother."

* * *

"He's in Lórien now. But he got on very well with Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna. My Lord even allowed him to use his personal forge!"

The older Maia's eyes darkened when they heard that.

"Truly? Aulë allowed that deserter and traitor access to _his personal forge_?"

The first speaker nodded, unease written all over his face.

"Yes. And helped him while he was there. I don't know what he made, but my lord was very impressed with it. Gave him no end of praise."

The other Maia's face was now black as thunder. This would never do. The longer this went on, the harder it will be to do anything to hurt that little traitor. And, with the way the Valar don't let him out of their sight…

The older Maia gave a sudden, feral grin. The younger swallowed uneasily, as he was regarded with glowing orange eyes that promised dire consequences if their owner was not obeyed.

"My dearest Small Spark, I have a new job for you…"

* * *

**The scene between Mairon and Arien was the first scene I wrote for this story. Óravassë was barely started at the time. I'm so happy I finally managed to fit it into the narrative.**


	14. A picnic, a talkand trouble

**This chapter takes place the day after the last one.**

* * *

**Chapter 14: A picnic, a talk…and trouble**

Mairon was trying, and failing, to keep his excitement in check as he paced around the grove. Reaching into his pocket, he checked for the umpteenth time the little box Aulë had let him have was still safe. It was, and the Maia took a few deep breaths, trying to control his impatience.

It was almost time…

"Mairon!"

The copper-haired Maia beamed as Marilwë appeared. Running over to her, he threw his arms around his friend.

"Marilwë! It's good to see you again. It's been too long."

The dark-haired Maia happily returned the embrace.

"It certainly has. I've missed you, Mai. I didn't realise how much you'd become part of Mandos until you weren't there any longer. It's very strange. Though you've been gone for over a month now, I'm still not used to it. I keep going to show you things or tell you about interesting events, only to remember you aren't there."

The Maiar soon broke apart, sitting down together on the blanket Mairon had already spread on the ground. It was late evening in the Gardens of Lórien. Arien had gone to her rest, and Varda's stars had just begun to twinkle merrily overhead. Tilion wasn't yet able to be seen, but that wasn't unusual for him. He was a lot less predictable in his path than Arien.

While the starts provided a little light, the grove where Mairon had set up the picnic was aglow with fireflies. Marilwë looked around in delight as they sat down. The little bugs were scattered about in the trees bordering the grove, bathing the Maiar in a soft golden glow. They could also be seen flickering amongst the grasses and flowers that surrounded the two picnickers – alighting on thick stems occasionally, before twinkling merrily and continuing on their way.

Once the two Maiar were settled, before starting to eat the food Mairon had bought, the copper-haired Maia shyly held out the small box he'd kept by his side since coming to Lórien several days ago.

"Marilwë. I – I made you something."

"Oh, Mai! Thank you!"

Green eyes alighting with excitement, Marilwë carefully took the box and opened it. What she saw inside made her gasp in wonder and delight.

"Oh Mai, it's gorgeous!"

Mairon's smile lit up his whole face.

"You like it?"

Marilwë nodded, holding up the delicate silver chain to better examine it.

"Like it? I love it! And the pendant is perfect. I adore green. You made this while you were with Lord Aulë?"

Mairon nodded.

"Yes. I – I wanted to make you something. To thank you for all you've done for me since I arrived."

Marilwë swallowed.

"You didn't have to. I've enjoyed it. Every minute of it."

Mairon nodded.

"That may be so, but I still wanted to make you something. May I?"

Mairon held out his hand, and Marilwë placed the necklace in it. Gently moving her hair out of the way, the copper-haired Maia clasped it around her neck. Looking over at her, he smiled.

"It suits you. The emerald is the same colour as your eyes."

Marilwë grinned at him.

"You did a good job in choosing it then. Thank you, Mairon."

For a moment, the Maiar just smiled at each other. It was Marilwë who broke the silence.

"Shall we eat now? I'm starving, and this picnic looks yummy."

Mairon nodded.

"That's all right with me. I'm hungry as well. It never ceases to amaze me how incarnate forms have so many needs."

Marilwë, reaching for a sandwich, agreed.

"They certainly do. That's one thing the fëar often have trouble with. Especially when they first arrive in Mandos. Until they get used to it, not having a _hröa_is very strange for them. The elves seem to have the most trouble. Among the Second Born, it's not such a big deal. They tend to pass through so quick, there is not time for them to miss it."

Mairon nibbled on a cake.

"Their lives in Eä are brief. But the things they manage to do in that time… If they decide they are doing something, there is very little dallying around. They just do it." He tilted his head. "Granted, it often ends in disarray for the haste; yet, I still admire their resolve. I always have. Their attitude towards life is so different from that of the Eldar. Or us."

Marilwë nodded in agreement, as Mairon continued.

"An elf can spend a century or two trying to decide whether or not to do something. That is close to two lifetimes for most men. They don't have the time to mess around with what they consider trivial matters. And as for us…we have all the time in the world."

Mairon trailed off, looking at his half-eaten cake.

"I wonder where exactly the mortals go when they leave Eä?"

"Only _Atar_ knows the answer to that." Marilwë shrugged. "Not even Námo or Lord Manwë fully understand it. Death is something Ilúvatar gave to them, and just them, for a reason."

Mairon nodded.

"I know. I – I often envied them that. That things could, would, just _end_ for them. Even the elves could give up their fëar at will, and depart to Mandos. I – " Mairon sighed, looking down at his hands. "I often wished I could do that."

Marilwë took his limp hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly.

"That time is all in the past, Mai. You're here now, and you are safe. The Valar won't allow anything to happen to you."

Mairon rested his head on Marilwë's shoulder, breathing deeply.

"They might have decided to give me a chance, but their Maiar haven't. Lady Yavanna's aren't too bad; Elerrína accepted me, and she is highly respected among them. That helped ease tensions. But Lord Aulë's people…" Mairon sighed once more. "I didn't even see Urunírë, and those that were around while I was there either gave me hateful looks, or ignored me."

By this point, the Maiar were sitting side-by-side, their arms wrapped around each other. Marilwë didn't know what she could say to make things better.

"Did you tell Lord Aulë about it?"

Mairon shook his head.

"No. It – wasn't bad enough for that. I mean, all they did was give me looks. I – I could feel them judging me, Maril. They were just watching and waiting for me to slip up – to go all Morgoth on them. Which isn't going to happen, so long as I'm bound like this. The Valar have been thorough in ensuring I cannot harm anyone, even by accident."

Marilwë gave him a squeeze.

"The other Maiar will come around in time. Especially because the Valar are involved. They can't resist their lords' and ladies' wills forever. It's impossible for any of us to. Our purpose and meaning are tied too tight with them and their emotions. It would take something major for one of us to wilfully go against our Lord's or Lady's wishes."

Mairon shook his head.

"It's not that hard. All it takes is for the rewards for doing so to be more alluring than what you already have."

Marilwë looked down.

"Or…" she said slowly. "if you were not given a choice in the first place. But were coerced and seduced into it, having your very core twisted beyond recognition when you tried to resist. Which none of them have been."

Mairon looked at her.

"Marilwë…how do you know that?"

The other Maia gave him a steady look.

"I know that because…well, Morgoth tried it on me once."

Mairon looked at her in disbelief.

"He WHAT?"

Marilwë nodded.

"Yes, he targeted me. And it was all but impossible to resist him. It was only thanks to Astarion and his interference in my life that I didn't run off and join Morgoth."

Mairon's expression was one of shock.

"Why on earth would you want to do that? You have such a good relationship with your lord. Why…?"

Marilwë looked at him with raw vulnerability in her eyes. A vulnerability that Mairon had never seen her display before. She always seemed so calm and composed. To see her like this, made the copper-haired Maia realise the events had deeply hurt her.

"Maybe running off and joining him is a slight exaggeration. Though the thought did cross my mind once. But in answer to your question…he enthralled me, Mairon. Not like you, in that I wasn't bound to obey his will. But, he did lay a block on my mind to ensure I wouldn't be able to tell anyone about him. It wasn't designed to be permanent. He just wanted to keep me quiet for long enough to steal those jewels and destroy the Trees."

Marilwë shuddered.

"I know what he did to your mind and core, Mai. He told me. In horrifying detail."

Mairon's voice deserted him, and he stared at his best friend in shock. Marilwë nodded.

"Though, at the time, I didn't understand the full implications of his words. I thought he was just trying to frighten me by threats of what he _could_ do to keep me quiet. Which it did. I didn't dare tell anyone what I knew out of fear of what would happen."

Mairon swallowed.

"W – What did he make you do?"

Marilwë suddenly found her hands very interesting.

"Not long before Fëanor was exiled, I discovered Morgoth – whom many, including Lord Manwë, thought reformed – was plotting something. I was spending a lot of time around the Noldor elves at that point. They didn't, and still don't, know the meaning of subtlety or how to keep their mouths shut. Though they were unaware of it, _I_ realised Morgoth was planning something detrimental. I didn't know what it was, but I learnt enough to know it couldn't be good."

Mairon's eyes were fastened on her face, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What happened?"

Marilwë looked at him with dry eyes.

"I wanted to be absolutely sure he was plotting to make trouble before I brought any accusations against him. So, I started spying on him. I should've just gone straight to Námo and told him everything. But, with everything that was happening…"

Marilwë sighed, looking down.

"Long story short; he caught me spying on him one day. He wasn't happy to see me. He blocked my mental bond with Námo, so I couldn't call my lord for help. He then questioned me to find out exactly what I knew about his doings. When I refused to answer, he took the information he wanted by force." Seeing Mairon's horrified look, Marilwë smiled wryly. "He didn't destroy anything, nor go near my core. He just looked at my memories to find out what I knew. Which was still not nice, though he was careful to make sure it didn't hurt. He didn't want to leave any physical evidence behind that would point to what he did."

Mairon swallowed.

"What happened next?"

"When he'd taken the information he wanted, he laid a block on my mind, to ensure I couldn't tell anyone about him. He also bound my memories of what he'd done to me, and what he was planning to do. Though I didn't have any evidence as to what he was planning to do, he took no chances."

"He vanished not long after that, just before his treachery towards Fëanor was revealed. While I retained the knowledge he was planning something, I was unable to tell anyone. He'd done a good job with binding my memories. Unless the block was removed, someone casually looking in my mind would not find anything amiss."

"And so, my mind remained bound for about five years of the Trees. No one thought to look to me for information about what Melkor was doing, though it was not long afterwards that his treachery was discovered. Eventually, it was Astarion who realised something was wrong with me. A matter of a week or so before the Trees were destroyed…"

Marilwë looked at Mairon's horrified expression with a wry smile.

"But, before anyone could do anything, the Trees were destroyed, Finwë was murdered, and Morgoth had taken off with those accursed jewels. The situation went downhill from there. It was a long time before things were sorted out enough for the Valar to turn their attention back to us. But, eventually, Námo discovered and removed the block from my mind. It was no trouble, once he knew of its existence. While my lord constantly told me what had happened wasn't my fault, I still felt terrible. Morgoth had used me to get what he wanted. Had used me as a tool to help him cause more harm, though I had no idea exactly what he'd been planning to do."

Mairon nodded. "That's all we ever were to him. Tools to be used, moulded, and discarded as he saw fit."

Tears leaked out of Marilwë's eyes.

"I know. It took me a long time to recover and come to terms with what happened. I slept in Námo and Lady Vairë's bed for months afterwards, and didn't leave Mandos for even longer. I was so upset about the whole thing, feeling all that'd happened was my fault. While I now know it wasn't, I still feel there had to have been something I could've done to prevent it all."

Mairon looked at her.

"If he decided he was doing something, nothing any of us could've done would have prevented it from happening. He knew _exactly_ how to play people. That was the reason so many joined him. It was the reason _I_ joined him."

Marilwë was silent for a moment. Then, she bowed her head.

"It was the reason our younger brother joined him as well."

At Mairon's horrified look, Marilwë nodded.

"Yes. What he did to me wasn't the first time Melkor hurt our family. We had a younger brother once. Nárwë. He was a darling, if a lot wilder than the rest of us. He was a fire Maia, like Arien." Marilwë swallowed. "Last we know, he was killed alongside most of the other Balrogs."

Mairon looked at her in horror.

"You mean...?"

Marilwë nodded.

"Yes. I told you. He had a wild nature."

Mairon looked traumatised.

"Don't tell me he was…?"

Marilwë figured out what he wasn't saying, and shook her head.

"No, he wasn't. _That_ much I do know. Though Gothmog was a similar type of Maia, I know he wasn't my little brother. Still, Nárwë became a lot like him in the end. Just less powerful. Unlike you, he-he cleaved to Morgoth from the beginning. Before we'd even left the Timeless Halls. He was fascinated with all Morgoth did. I guess that should have been our first warning."

Mairon didn't raise his head.

"I probably met him at one point."

Marilwë lowered her own eyes.

"You might have. Though the creature you would have met was not the brother we once knew. Not after Morgoth finished with him. That is one thing we _do _know. The monsters those balrogs became had nothing in common with the beings they'd been before."

Mairon's voice was muffled.

"Have any others suffered like you?"

Marilwë nodded.

"Many have. Some were worse. Lady Nienna's twins lost their older sister, Thuringwethil, to him."

Mairon looked grief-stricken. Marilwë looked at him, understanding dawning on her face.

"You knew her?"

Mairon nodded. His voice sounded haunted in a way it had never been before.

"Yes. She was my herald and second-in-command when I held Tol-in-Gaurhoth for Morgoth."

Marilwë's voice was soft.

"What happened?"

Tears filled Mairon's eyes.

"She perished when Lúthien and Huan took the island. At least, I think that's what happened. I never saw her again after that day. I-I didn't even get a chance to mourn her passing."

Marilwë looked at him with understanding in her eyes.

"You were close?"

Marion swallowed.

"Yeh, I guess we were. Not in _that _way; Melkor would have punished us both if we'd tried. Anyways, we weren't attracted to each other like that. But…"

Marion looked down.

"She was always nice to me. She treated me like a treasured little brother, and I saw her as being like a sister. Yet, she still deferred to me as being higher in Morgoth's hierarchy of power than her. She was one of the few to not give me grief for it. I took her to Tol-in-Gaurhoth with me to have some company. Though she didn't hate or fear him as I did, she was happy for a change. She was one of the bright spots in my life…"

Mairon trailed off. Marilwë felt a tear trickle down her cheek as she hugged him.

"I am sorry, Mairon. He – he caused unimaginable suffering to us all."

Mairon nodded without lifting his head.

"I just hope _Atar _had mercy on Thuringwethil, and did not let her bodiless spirit wander the Void. While she believed in Morgoth's cause way more strongly than I ever did, she still didn't deserve that."

More tears ran down Marilwë's cheeks.

"She believed in what he was doing?"

Marion nodded wordlessly. Marilwë looked away.

"Th-they always thought she'd been seduced…"

Mairon shrugged.

"Maybe she was. We never talked about our past, or how we'd come to be in_ His_ service. It was the one topic we avoided. But, by the time I knew her, she truly believed in what he was doing. Even if it was just in the interests of self-preservation."

Marilwë gave a heavy sigh.

"You – should tell Lady Nienna about this. She'll have to decide what to do with the information."

Mairon just nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. They were silent for a long time before Marilwë spoke.

"Many others had siblings or close friends who turned to him. I can't name anyone who hasn't been affected by him in some way. There are even some who lost all their siblings to him. Eönwë and Ilmarë aren't the only ones to have only one other sibling. However, the difference with them is they never had anyone else. Others, like Nehtartúra and Roimewen, once had other siblings. _Atar_ created us all, apart from our Chiefs, to have at least two siblings each. However, not everyone does anymore."

Mairon swallowed.

"Who are Nehtartúra and Roimewen? Whom do they serve?"

Marilwë gave a small frown.

"They are counted among Lord Oromë's people. Liltára knows Roimewen well, so I am vaguely familiar with her. I have yet to meet her brother properly, but she idolises him. It's just the two of them now."

Mairon nodded absently, his mind already on other matters.

"Marilwë, when _He _was here…was anyone else targeted? It just seems strange that he would stop at doing that to you, in addition to stirring up the Noldor elves to rebel…" Mairon looked pensive. "It just seems very amateurish for him not to have caused more trouble. He thrived on chaos, after all."

Marilwë gave an honest shrug.

"No idea. Though, he only targeted me because I could've gotten in the way of his plans. He left me alone before that. Probably because I wasn't powerful enough to bother with. He always had a thing about wanting all the most powerful Maiar on his side. Or what he perceived as power."

Mairon agreed.

"That makes sense. He made it very clear he'd only gone to all the trouble to get me because of my power and skills. He all but ignored Olórin. And, he feared Arien too much to try anything too serious with her."

"Were you very close to your sister?"

Mairon shook his head.

"No. Truth be told, I rarely saw her. I didn't think she ever liked me that much. I got the impression I was too young for her to bother with."

Marilwë looked upset.

"I'm sure she does care about you. Those were just troubled times. No one found them easy. What with trying to shape Middle Earth and fight Morgoth. And he exploited every weakness he could."

Mairon nodded, a smile gracing his features.

"She does care about me. I know that now. She came to visit me just yesterday. We cleared up a lot of misunderstandings we both had."

Marilwë smiled as she hugged him.

"That's very good news. I'm so happy for you, Mai. Family is so important."

Mairon did not reply to that. Looking at the bleakness in his eyes as he remembered something painful from Before, Marilwë hugged him again.

"Whatever you are thinking about… it's in the past now, Mai. We are here now, safe and well. Yes, we have lost much along the way. However, much good has come out of it as well."

Mairon looked at her.

"What kind of good?"

Marilwë blushed.

"Well – for one, we probably would never have met and gotten to know each other like we have. I can't be sorry about that happening."

Mairon rested his head on Marilwë's shoulder with a small smile.

"I guess that is something to be glad about."

Marilwë nodded.

"Definitely. Now, hadn't we better finish this food? We started, but then got side-tracked. And that fruit looks way too tempting not to sample."

Like that, their conversation switched to more cheerful topics. They finished their picnic with seeing who could tell the most outrageous stories (Mairon felt he was winning). However, halfway through one of his stories, the fireflies lighting up their grove suddenly took flight, leaving them in almost utter darkness.

Mairon looked up in alarm.

"Marilwë, what is happening?"

He received no answer and looked over to where she'd been sitting. She was not there. In fact, she wasn't _anywhere_.

His friend had completely disappeared. Mairon fought down panic as he began to rise.

"Marilwë? Where are you? What's happening?"

Before he could do or say anything more, an all-consuming blackness overwhelmed his senses.

* * *

**Rubs hands gleefully at leaving you on a cliff-hanger. After all, it's only taken fourteen chapters to get here *evil laughed rings out over the story***


	15. Pledging allegiance

**Warning: This chapter has Melkor-being-physically-violent-to-Mairon in a flashback. Which is about as pleasant as him being a mentally abusive creep. While I don't consider it to be rated above a T (it's not graphic, but does imply great violence) the flashback is in italics, and the general flow of the story will not be affected if you decide to skip it.**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Pledging allegiance **

The relentless blackness closed in around Mairon, cutting him off from everything. He tried calling out, but his voice wouldn't working, which scared him. Looking wildly around, Mairon found he couldn't see or feel anything. It was like he was in a void of nothingness. The Maia had to almost physically fight to keep from clawing out in panic at that realisation.

Then, the attacks started.

Mairon cried out in pain and fear as an unseeing force rained blows down on his fana. The unexpectedness of it caused him to lose his footing, stumbling to the ground. No part of his body was spared. Mairon could do nothing but curl up in a ball and pray for help as the relentless assault continued. As he did so, memories of the last time he'd been in this type of situation rose unbidden.

* * *

_Mairon shivered in pain, fear, and cold. A strangled yelp escaped him as the whip contacted with his back again, and he jerked in the chains. He was completely naked, suspended above the floor by iron cuffs locked securely around his wrists. His shoulders and wrists screamed from the painful stretch of having his whole weight hanging from them. Melkor had taken his eyesight and hearing away from him for this punishment, so the Maia had no way of predicting when the attacks would come._

_Or which direction they would come from. _

_He was already bleeding heavily from cuts the whip had left on his chest and the front of his thighs, and he didn't dare contemplate what the back of his body must look like. A sudden strip of burning pain on the back of his calves caused the Maia to cry out soundlessly, attempting to jerk away yet again. His bare feet struggled in vain to find some purchase, even as he felt fresh blood trickle down the back of his legs._

_Eventually giving it up (not even his toes could brush the floor with the way Melkor had strung him up), the Maia let his head hang towards his chest in pain and exhaustion as he concentrated on breathing. Closing sightless eyes, he silently praying to _anyone_ to just let the pain end. He didn't even know what he'd done to warrant punishment this time. Or even if he'd done _anything_. _

_Melkor wasn't above beating him for no reason other than his own sadistic amusement. His temper had only become more volatile since the Silmaril had been stolen, and Mairon was his favourite form of stress relief these days. This wasn't the first time the fallen Vala had taken out his anger and frustrations about life on him. But, it was only the third or so time he'd flogged the Maia like this since that event. _

_While hurting others, especially those who were helpless to fight back, always made Melkor very happy, he enjoyed using other methods of torture on his thralls as well. Unfortunately for him, not many were strong enough – physically or mentally – to take too much of his creativity without going into shock or dying. During the very early days, back when Mairon had served the Dark Vala by choice, Melkor had unintentionally lost several of the Maiar who'd followed him. They just hadn't been strong enough to handle his temper. _

_Mairon, sadly, was._

_At least, he'd never not been able to recover from the punishments heaped on him so far. _

_However, as another burning pain whipped across his lower stomach, making him feel sick in addition to the pain, Mairon couldn't help wondering if this would be the time he couldn't recover. _

* * *

Marilwë cried out in fear, the black nothingness blanketing all her senses.

"Mairon? What's happening? Mairon!" She screamed.

Upon receiving no answer, the Maia began panicking. Struggling to find something – anything – she reached out and patting the air around her. Mairon had been right next to her a second ago. He HAD to be here.

Somewhere.

When she couldn't find him, couldn't find anything, her panic increased. Reaching out desperately to her lord through their mental bond, Marilwë began screaming.

*My Lord! My Lord! Help!*

* * *

When Marilwë's panicked cry reached him, Námo was talking with Vairë. The Weaver looked at him with concern as he abruptly fell silent, the expression on his face becoming grimmer than usual.

"Vairë darling, I must go."

Without waiting for an answer, the Vala thought himself to Lórien. To the grove where he knew Marilwë and Mairon were having a picnic. However, when he arrived, there was nothing there. The clearing looked as if it hadn't been disturbed for days. Everything was still and peaceful. Even the leaves in the nearby trees were not stirred by a breeze.

The Vala blinked as Marilwë's panicked cry continued to touch his mind, even stronger now he was in Lórien. He tried sending an answering message, asking where she was, but it would not go out. Something stopped it before it even reached the bond he held with his chief. His frown deepening, the Vala sent his mental force outwards, seeking for anything that would tell him what was happening.

Suddenly, it was like a fog was lifted from his senses, and he could see again. The peaceful, empty clearing was abruptly replaced by the scene of a picnic and two Maiar on the ground sobbing. Taking in everything in a second, Námo went to his knees next to Mairon, who was clearly the more affected of the two.

The copper-haired Maia was curled in a ball on the ground, sobbing in pain and fear. His arms covered his head, hands fisted in his hair as he curled up tighter at this new presence, attempting to avoid an attack that didn't come. Before Námo could reach out for Mairon, however, Marilwë was clutching him and crying. Námo sent out a swift mental shout for Irmo and Estë as her confusion and panic assaulted his mental barriers. He was used to dealing with traumatized souls, but there were currently two in desperate need of his assistance, and only one of him. He needed help. He had no idea what had happened her, but Mairon clearly needed medical treatment, and Marilwë could not be left unattended. In addition, Irmo might have some insights into whatever the hell it was Námo had just witnessed.

His brother's consciousness was tied to the Gardens in a way not dissimilar to how Námo's was tied to Mandos.

Turning his attention back to the Maiar, Námo put a soothing arm around Marilwë, before gently trying to rouse Mairon. It didn't work. Though the Maia's eyes were open, they were glazed and unfocused. The look reminded the Doomsman of what they'd been like after they'd looked at Mairon's memories.

Despite his mind been miles away, Námo was relieved Mairon was not scared by his presence. Instead, when he touched Mairon's arm, the Maia latched onto him, gripping the Vala's hand so tight, both their knuckles went white.

Irmo arrived just then; his silver eyes widened in horror at the sight that greeted him. Estë was not far behind. Upon seeing the scene, she immediately took charge.

"Irmo, examination table. Now."

The Vala disappeared to do her bidding, and the Valië knelt on Mairon's other side. Carefully running glowing hands down his spine, Estë assessed the damage as Irmo arrived back with the table. Estë looked at Námo.

"Can you put him on the table? He has a few cracked ribs I must set before they cause an issue with his breathing. One is dangerously close to his lung."

Námo nodded. Using his power, he lifted Mairon onto the table. He didn't let go of the Maia's hand, nor did he let go of Marilwë, who still clung to him, weeping. That done, Estë placed her hands on Mairon's chest. Her hands and forearms glowed gold as she channelled her power into Mairon, worked on repairing the internal damage done to the Maia's fana. Irmo assisted her as needed. For a while, they worked in grim silence. Finally, however, the Valië sighed in relief. Removing her hands from his rib cage, Estë placed one soothingly on the Maia's brow.

"You're okay, little one." She whispered, brushing her hand through his hair. "It shouldn't hurt anymore. You can come back to us now, Mairon. It's all okay."

The Maia stirred momentarily, but did not resurface, his eyes still vacant and blank. Now that things had calmed down a little, Irmo looked across at his brother.

"Námo. What the hell happened here?"

The eldest of the Fëanturi shook his head.

"I was hoping you could tell me. I received a cry for help from Marilwë, and rushed here to find them as you saw."

Námo pulled the Maia in question closer to him as he spoke. Irmo looked troubled.

"I can't. I have no idea what happened. I didn't know anything was even wrong until you called me. How did Mairon end up like this? And Marilwë? Is she okay?"

Estë, who was gently coaxing the female Maia to allow herself to be examined (even though she did not let up her hold on Námo the whole time), looked up.

"She isn't hurt physically. But, she appears to have gone into a state of mild shock. Námo, what happened?"

The Doomsman frowned.

"They were attacked by someone who was able to blank out their senses. Whoever it was, also affected mine. They couldn't block my mental bond with Marilwë, but, when I arrived, I could not see nor sense anything. I am worried, Brother. No one outside of another Vala should have the ability to blank out _my_ mental senses. And you didn't feel anything unusual happening in your own gardens?"

Irmo shook his head, deeply concerned at hearing that.

"No. I felt nothing out of the ordinary. Estë?"

The Valië also shook her head.

"I sensed nothing either. What – what does this mean?"

The Fëanturi answered in unison, as they often did. "I have no idea."

It would have been funny, if the situation hadn't been so grim. But, as it was, no one smiled. Marilwë abruptly stirred in Námo's arms, blinking up at him.

"My lord? Is that you?"

Námo tightened his hold on her.

"Yes, my daughter. It is. You're safe."

Marilwë gave a shuddering sigh, relaxing into him. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes. Seconds later, however, she jerked upright, eyes flying open.

"What about Mairon?! Is he okay?"

Námo quickly soothed her.

"Hush, settle. Yes. He's fine. He's right here. See?" He shifted so Marilwë could more easily see Mairon on the table before them. While he was pale and unmoving, his breathing was steady, even as his knuckles were white where they still gripped Námo's hand.

At seeing the still form laying on the table, Marilwë choked back a sob.

"Is he hurt?"

Este's voice was soothing.

"He was, but I fixed it. Physically, he is okay, but his mind is somewhere else. He hasn't responded to our attempts to reach him. And we aren't about to go digging. Hopefully, when he realises he is safe, he'll come back to us on his own."

Marilwë looked at him. Her green eyes glowed in a way the Valar had never seen before, as her voice took on a distant tone.

"Maybe he'll respond to me. I may need your help, my lord."

Without another word, Marilwë slid out of Námo's arms, leaning over the still body of her friend.

"Mairon? Mai? Are you there? It's okay to come out; they are gone. We're safe now. Mairon?"

The female Maia wrapped her arms around the other Maia's neck, resting her cheek on his brow. Closing her glowing eyes, she continued softly talking, oblivious to the three Valar watching her like hawks.

* * *

A thread of Love slowly penetrated the muffling fog Mairon was surrounded with. While it wasn't a familiar sensation, it was _safe_, and the shaken Maia latched onto it. When nothing bad happened, he allowed himself to relax a little. Letting go of some of the tension he'd been holding, he allowed the Love to slowly drew him nearer.

Gradually, as he held onto Love, he became aware of other sensations and feelings. The main one being the strange absence of pain. Given the pain was what had driven him into hiding in the first place, he kept expecting to be suddenly assaulted by it once more. But, even though he waited a long time, the horrible sensations never came. Suddenly curious, Mairon reached out, seeking something to explain this. That was when a familiar presence that screamed Safety and Security touched his consciousness. Not letting go of the thin thread of Love, Mairon desperately sought to grab hold of the Safety he could sense as well. He couldn't see anything in this darkness, but it had to be close. He could almost feel it…

Then it was there, encompassing him. Mairon latched onto it and allowed himself to drift, locked securely in its power. Time lost all meaning as he drifted, feeling more at peace then he had for ages.

All too soon, the Safety started drifting towards a distant light, and Mairon hesitated. He did not know why, but something told him the light was dangerous. The light had hurt him; bad things happened in the light. But, before he could turn and bolt back into the darkness, the thin strand of Love was there again, encouraging him to move forward. Mairon wavered as the Safety whispered reassuringly in his ear. He couldn't understand what it said. But, he did know it wouldn't let the light hurt him.

It wanted him to come back to the light. He trusted the Safety, and it was telling him the light was good. Mairon took a hesitant step closer. When nothing bad happened, he took another. And then another. With each step, his confidence grew until he stood at the very edge of the light. One more step and it would consume him. While he'd come this far without incident, the Maia hesitated to take that final step through…

Then he saw the Love standing just the other side of the light. Mairon blinked, mesmerised by the beauty of Love.

"Marilwë?"

Without thinking, he took a step forward, into the light. Then he was falling, plummeting into a void that had suddenly appeared. But, before he had time to panic, Safety gently caught him, reeling him in, protecting him. Cuddling into Safety, surrounded by Love, Mairon allowed his eyes to focus, as wave after wave of sounds and sensations washed over him.

* * *

Irmo watched in open-mouthed amazement as Mairon's eyes cleared. What had his brother and Marilwë just done?

"Marilwë? Lord Námo?"

Mairon's voice was rough, interrupted before he got any further by a fit of coughing. Estë offered him water, which he gratefully accepted. Once he'd drunk his fill, Marilwë helped him sit up. Mairon rested his head on her shoulder, looking at the three Valar.

"What happened?"

Námo didn't let go of his hand.

"You were physically attacked, as far as we can make out. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

Memories of torture and pain flashed before Mairon's eyes. Out of the corner of them, he saw Irmo wince. Mairon swallowed, trying to put his thoughts back behind his mental shield. He hadn't yet found the courage to tell the Valar the full extent of the abuse Melkor had put him through. And, he wasn't ready to face it right now. Not after what'd just happened.

Though, by the way Irmo looked at him, Mairon knew he'd seen more than he should have. But, the Vala said nothing. Mairon knew he would not bring it up again until he himself was ready to talk about it.

Irmo was an expert at keeping other people's secrets.

"Is that what happened? I can't really remember feeling anything except fear. And pain. M-my lord…"

His voice faulted as he looked at Námo. The Vala gave him a gentle look.

"Yes, Mairon?"

The Maia swallowed.

"Can I – can I stay with you this time? For good? I – want to be yours. I trust you. I-I don't trust anyone else. Not like you. Will you – will you allow me to enter into your service, Lord Námo?"

With Marilwë's silent help, Mairon had slid off the table as he spoke, and was now kneeling on both knees in front of Námo. His head was bowed; his hands palm up beside his body in the pose of fealty Maiar traditionally held when offering a Valar their allegiance. Silently, he waited for Námo's answer, his fana trembling slightly as he fought to keep still and focused.

Without looking at anyone, Námo knelt himself. As opposed to Mairon's position, however, he knelt solely on one knee, thus placing himself above the Maia. His hands came up to rest on Mairon's shoulders, before the Guardian of Souls allowed his impassive mask to melt away, exposing his facial features. And, more specifically, his expressive silver eyes.

Eyes that looked so much like Irmo's in this state, they could have been mistaken for twins. However, while Irmo's eyes always glowed with mischief and humour, Námo's gaze was more solemn and stern. It could even be called severe; not a hint of humour or amusement showed through. It was like looking into silver voids of impassiveness. His actions belayed that image, however. Reaching down, Námo gently took Mairon's hands in his, bringing them together to rest between his own. First, though, the Vala placed one finger under Mairon's chin, wordlessly encouraging the Maia to look at him.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Little One? You have given it plenty of thought?"

Mairon nodded.

"Yes, my lord. I don't know what use I'll be in Mandos, but…I want to serve you and be yours. I – have been wanting to tell you since I was burnt. Will you accept my service, my lord?"

Námo held his gaze.

"Yes, Mairon, I will accept thy service and thine oath. Do you remember the words for the Valarin oath of fealty?"

Irmo and Estë both stepped back, watching the scene unfolding in front of them in silence. This was an important moment, and they weren't about to interfere. Marilwë watched the events with wide eyes, even as Mairon spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes. But," he frowned. "I-I broke it once before. Is it – it is right to swear it again? I – haven't exactly had the best experience with oaths. Either ones I've made, or ones that have been made to me." The Maia swallowed, dropping his head. "I – don't know if I believe, or-or trust, in oaths anymore."

Námo's expression softened even more when he heard that.

"I have every intention of keeping my oath to you, Mairon. I have never yet broken one, and never plan on doing so. So long as you intend to keep yours to me, it is fit for you to swear it again."

Mairon looked at Námo.

"Might – might I add a few things to it? The traditional oath doesn't seem meaningful enough for this. And…I've already broken it before. I want this time to be different."

Námo's gentle expression didn't change. If anything, his features softened further at Mairon's words.

"So long as you mean what you say, and intend to keep whatever oath you swear, you can."

Mairon nodded, even as he began speaking softly in Valarin.

"I swear I, M-Mairon, will be true and faithful to thee, my chosen Lord Námo. I shall love all thou love and shun all which thou shun, according to the commands and purpose Ilúvatar has laid on me. I will never, either by will or action, w-word or deed, do anything which is unpleasing to thee. My fana and fëa will be thine, and thine alone, to command."

Though the oath traditionally stopped there, Mairon hesitated, swallowing hard. Silence descended on the clearing, Námo waiting patiently for the Maia to find the words he wished to say. Finally, Mairon continued, though in a much quieter tone than he had started it, the words a mere whisper as they left his lips. Yet, there was no mistaking the complete and pure sincerity in them.

"I swear, m-my lord, I will not heed or solicit those who would seek to lead me astray. To thee alone, and to Ilúvatar, will I bring my cares and concerns. In thee will I trust for my care and protection, on condition that thou will hold to me as I shall deserve." He took a deep breath, a shudder running through his body, even as he squared his shoulders and his gaze hardened. "May Ilúvatar himself see and judge me if I be false to this oath."

Once he was finished, Námo squeezed his hands reassuringly. The Vala was quick to notice that Mairon hadn't said anything in his oath regarding 'until my lord shall release me from his service'. Generally, it was part of the standard oath they all swore to each other. This Maia leaving it out of his oath completely, coupled with those details he'd added, was very telling.

Námo reigned in those thoughts to dwell on later, before beginning his oath.

"I accept thee and thy service, Mairon, with a full and glad heart." He smiled at Mairon, even as the Maia ducked his head slightly, his grip tightening. "As Ilúvatar has decreed, thou shalt be in my care. I will behave, in word, deed, will, and action, as the lord that thou needst and deserves. Though thy fana and fëa will be mine to command, I shall act to deserve such a gift – for so it is. I will listen and act that thou mayst never have need to look to others for any of thy needs. Thy cares and concerns, worries and fears, shall be as mine own. I will hold to thee and love thee as thou deserve, and thou shalt be as one of mine. I shall perform the duties due thee as thou perform the duties due me, and together we shall serve. Ilúvatar sees the oaths sworn today, and will judge those who prove false."

While his oath was mostly standard, Námo did address a few of the more pertinent things Mairon had said. The Maia's words had moved him more than he cared to admit, and Námo was not about to break trust with one whom was literally offering their life in service to him. Once they'd sworn their oaths to each other, Mairon looked up at his new lord with a smile, switching back to Quenya.

"Pick me up? Please? You did just promise to love and look after me."

Námo chuckled at the puppy-dog eyes his new Maia was giving him. Scooping Mairon up without difficulty, the Vala settled him against his chest, securing him in place with one arm. He held his other hand out for Marilwë to take, before looking over at his brother and sister-in-law, both of whom were beaming.

* * *

Mairon relaxed against Námo as the Valar held a silent conversation, feeling more at peace then he had since first coming to Valinor. He had a lord to serve again, a lord to devote all his energy and purpose to. Though he didn't have a good track record when it came to remaining loyal to a Vala, Mairon felt it would be harder to fail this time.

Unlike with Aulë and Melkor, he trusted Námo, and knew he was genuinely loved in return. Námo also cared about him; had done so since the beginning. Throughout his almost four years being in Valinor, the one thing that had stood out as a constant was Námo's unconditional love and care. Mairon had wanted to serve Námo officially very early on, and had even mentioned it to the Fëanturi siblings, but had ceded to the Valar's insistence he had to be totally sure that was what he wanted (and be much stronger in both mind and body) before any oath he gave would be accepted.

Mairon knew Irmo had especially been concerned about this. Námo had also worried the care and kindness Mairon had received from him had influenced his desire to serve the one who had given it to him for those reasons. When Irmo had gently brought up this concern with him, Mairon couldn't help wondering if that was true.

While he'd never desired to serve another this strongly, he'd also never received this level of care and love from them either. It was partially for this reason, Mairon had agreed to spend some time with the other Valar. He had to know if what he felt for Námo was genuine, or a product of having been abused by others for so long.

However, he'd soon come to realise it was indeed genuine. When anything happened, the fact the only thing he could think of was _Námo would make it all better_ convinced him of that.

"Are you ready to come home, my Little One?"

Mairon nodded, cuddling more firmly into the Vala's solid chest before closing his eyes.

"Yes, my lord. I'm ready to go home."

* * *

**Mairon's oath is adopted from the first one here (the Anglo-Saxon one) [has to be in words or this website will eat the url]: **

** wwwdotdragonbeardotcomslashfealtydothtml**

**Námo's oath was created by CoffeeRanger. **


	16. Return to Mandos

**Chapter 16: Return to Mandos**

Once they were back in Mandos, it didn't take long for Marilwë to get over her shock. When that happened, she started fuming. Though she was usually mild-mannered (if a bit exuberant), the co-chief of Mandos had a temper few ever saw.

"The attack came out of nowhere! I felt nothing and heard nothing until they were just _there_. There, and attacking Mairon! And dulling my senses to the point I wasn't fully self-aware. I may not be the most powerful Maia around, but I still should've been able to sense them coming! How could someone hide themselves like that?"

Námo placed a gentle hand on Mairon's back, as Marilwë continued ranting and storming around the room. The copper-haired Maia had buried his face in Námo's chest as soon as they were in the privacy of the Vala's study. He was still very shaken by the attack, and not up to talking, or even responding, too much. That terror and fear were soothed, though, by him having pledged his service to Námo. However, the Vala was aware it was a temporary respite. He had a lot of work ahead of him, helping Mairon through this.

Mairon _and_ Marilwë. His chief Maia was also shaken by the events, perhaps more so than Mairon. But, unlike him, once the shock and fear wore off, her response to the situation was anger.

And she was _very_ angry right now.

Námo had only ever seen her this mad once before. And that time had not ended well for an unfortunate mountain that had gotten in the way. That area of Middle Earth was still a vast plain to this day. She was a Maia of the earth after all, just like her brother. It was at times like this Námo remembered his twins were not very different. Just because Marilwë tended to be more level-headed then Astarion, more reserved in her emotions and less inclined to wear her heart on her sleeve, that didn't mean she didn't have a temper to rival his.

Though, whatever Marilwë had done to bring Mairon's consciousness back to them, was something Námo had never witnessed any of his Maiar do before. That ability would have to be analysed and examined in more detail once things calmed down. Right now, everyone was too riled up.

"You don't have any idea of the identity of whoever did this?"

Waiting until Marilwë paused for breath, Námo gently broke through her tirage. Closing her mouth, she blinked at him, finally beginning to calm down.

Soothed somewhat by the feelings of power, safety, and calm he was radiating.

"N-no. Though I do know there were more than one of. I registered multiple presences before my senses were blocked. And they were powerful. More so than I am."

"Were they Maiar? Could you tell?"

Marilwë swallowed.

"They had to be. The elves don't have that level of power, and I don't think they are foolish enough to go against you like this." She grimaced. "Well, no one except perhaps for Fëanor. But he's locked up where he can't do any harm. It had to be Maiar."

Námo nodded. His mask had slipped back into place while he'd spoken with Irmo and Estë, though it wasn't as rigid as usual. It didn't need to be. He was in his home, with two of his Maiar who knew him better than almost anyone else.

There was no reason to hide his emotions right now. Especially when he was using so much of his power to keep things calm.

"Marilwë, come and sit, child. I know you're angry, and you have a right to be. But, we cannot do anything tonight. Irmo is going to tell Lord Manwë what happened, and we _will _get to the bottom of it. In time."

Her initial anger having dissipated, Marilwë came over, curling up next to her lord. Melting into his side, she spoke in a voice that had an obvious tremor to it.

"What could they want? What is there to gain by attacking Mairon and causing us pain like this?"

In a move Námo was sure was subconscious, her and Mairon's hands entwined. Mairon looked across at her with resigned golden eyes. His head was still resting on Námo's chest, his breathing and heartbeat currently being in sync with the Vala's.

"They weren't after you." He whispered, though his voice sounded hollow and without emotion. "It was _me_ they wanted to hurt. You just happened to be there. I'm sorry you got hurt because of me."

Marilwë's voice was soft.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Mai. It _wasn't_ your fault. But, why would they want to even attack you? The Valar have shown you mercy. You are not hurting anyone. I know Morgoth did a lot of damage, and many still hold grudges against him. But, you were his prisoner and thrall for Ages. You suffered more under him than almost anyone else did."

Mairon sighed.

"Not everyone understands nor accepts that. I'm not surprised there are those willing to attack me. I'm sure there are even some who believe I belong in the Void, with the one I ill-advisedly chose to serve."

"Was coerced into serving."

"I wasn't unwilling in the beginning, Maril." Mairon sighed. "I did a lot by my own free will I am not proud of."

"You were deceived."

"Maybe I was. I cannot remember what started it. I do, however, know I wanted the lies to be true so much, I convinced myself they were."

"You just wanted love and acceptance. What's so bad about that?"

Mairon did not answer, curling into Námo even more. The Vala began rubbing the back of his neck, and the smaller Maia relaxed further. He didn't fall asleep though, and Námo couldn't blame him for that. Feeling Marilwë was still tense, Námo began humming. With some difficulty, he encouraged her to lay her head on his lap, massaging her scalp. Before long, she started drifting, though she too kept herself from truly sleeping.

While they trusted him, sleeping after what had just happened was another matter. Though his presence and touch were helping them settle more than almost anything else he could have done at this point. The Maiar were, in general, more tactile than the Valar. Some more so than others.

It hadn't taken Námo long to figure out that Mairon, especially, craved gentle touch. The Maia craved it almost as much as he craved love.

While it had taken time to earn his trust so he didn't flinch away or stiffen at contact, the Vala felt every second was worth it. The formally abused Maia's faith in him (and slowly growing trust in the other Valar) was a precious and fragile thing that needed to be carefully nurtured. Especially now he'd pledged himself to Námo. That gave the Vala an even greater responsibility and duty to look after him.

Marilwë also loved physical touch. Though, thanks to the amount of cuddling she did with her twin, Námo didn't often needed to step in. The Maiar normally satisfied their needs themselves from cuddling with family and friends; very rarely did a Vala need to step in with the intensity Námo had had to with Mairon.

Not that he minded. He loved cuddling with those under his care. As paradoxical as it was, he was probably the most tactile of all the Vala.

Apart from Nienna. Though, she had so many reasons for gifting her hugs it was hard to keep track. Sometimes it was something as simple as seeing a beautiful sunset that caused her to seek out someone to hug to release emotions. Irmo, as strange as it seemed, enjoyed hugs the least of all of them.

*My love? What's happened?*

Námo looked up at his wife's concerned voice, even though it was in his head. Continuing softly humming so as not to disturb his children, the Vala answered via ósanwe.

*Mairon was attacked in Lórien.*

Vairë's response was swift and very concerned.

*Is he okay?! What happened?*

Námo swiftly reassured her, showing her what had happened. After seeing his memories, including Mairon's promise to serve him, the Valië was silent for a long moment.

*I can't really say I'm surprised he chose you. But, what happens now about the other matter?*

Námo shook his head.

*Irmo and Estë are letting Manwë know what happened. He'll want to hold a council, but I imagine it will be a few days before it will be organised. In the meantime, Mairon will stay here with us. I'm now responsible for helping him to fully heal. The first step in doing that is to make him feel safe again.*

Vairë was silent for a long time.

*Lórien is supposed to be safe.*

Námo nodded.

*Yes. And the implications of what happened have Irmo very worried.*

Vairë took a long time to reply.

*I – don't like the implications of this much myself. Do we have any idea who attacked them?*

Námo frowned.

*I suspect it was some of the other Maiar. We know there has been discord among them ever since Mairon came back. However, for them to go this far, the discord and discontent must run deeper than we realise.*

Vairë's voice was soft.

*How is he?*

Námo looked down at the small Maia he was still cuddling.

*I don't think he's letting go of me anytime soon. But, other than been very shaken, he's doing surprisingly well.*

Vairë mentally smiled.

*That's good. He could probably do with some sleep. Are you all coming to bed anytime soon? It's lonely in here by myself.*

Námo blinked.

*I'm not leaving them.*

Vairë nodded.

*I know. I'm not asking you to. It's not like we haven't had Maiar sleep with us before.*

Vairë's voice softened.

*And, it will help reassure Mairon he is loved and safe. And wanted, by both of us. I image his sense of security is very shaky right now. I'll go find them some nightclothes.*

Her voice left no room for argument. Not that Námo would have argued with her. He'd learnt a long time ago that arguments with his wife tended to end with him losing.

Not that he'd ever really had a chance of winning them to begin with. Vairë was very good at talking people around to seeing things her way, and her stubbornness rivalled his.

She was also incredibly good at guilting him into doing something if all else failed. But, she also was the only one who understood what he went through; who shared his pain of watching the history of Arda unfold in front of her. Like him, there was nothing she could do to stop disasters from happening. While she didn't know the future (and he rarely burdened her with his knowledge), the pain she had to carry from weaving even the darkest and most detestable events often left her feeling drained and sick in spirit.

Throughout the long Ages since they'd first come to Eä, Námo had come to understand why their Atar had given them to each other. He knew without Vairë, he wouldn't be able to do his job. The darkness of what he had to deal with would've made him bitter a long time ago if she hadn't been there to support and love him. While the elves saw marriage as being a physical act, for the Ainur, it ran much deeper. Being first and foremost spirits, their concept of marriage went way beyond the physical.

Marriage meant joining your soul to the soul of another and sharing their thoughts, strengths, weaknesses and trials. Marriage meant forming a special, deep, spiritual, and emotional connection with another person, and being there for them. No matter what happened. For this type of bond to form, there had to be trust and love to begin with. For this reason, marriage bonds among the Ainur tended to take many years to be formed and realised.

This was true for both the Valar and the Maiar. Unless you were Aulë and Yavanna. It had been Love at First Sight with those two; they'd had to be all but forcibly restrained from each other until _Atar_ had decided they were mature enough for marriage. But they were the exception rather than the rule. There was a reason why, even now, Ages after they'd come to Eä, there were still marriages occurring among the Maiar. Though the foundations of this type of bond could form quickly (like Aulë and Yavanna's had), they typically took years and even Ages to fully develop. Aulë and Yavanna's was different in that they'd made an instant deep and spiritual connection. Not dissimilar to Mairon and Marilwë, in all honesty. Námo looked down at the two Maiar he was holding thoughtfully.

While he knew what the endgame would be, he had no idea how they were going to get there. He'd never seen or experienced anything quite like this before…

Námo thought the three of them to his and Vairë's bedroom. She wasn't back with the nightclothes yet, so Námo sat them down on the bed to wait. Before too long, Vairë appeared. The Valië smiled to see them.

"Marilwë, dear. Will you come into the next room with me and allow me to help you get ready for bed?"

Realising what was happening, the Maia sat up, giving a reluctant nod.

"Okay."

Once the Valië had shepherded the female Maia out, Námo picked up the other set of nightclothes Vairë had left. He then began the task of convincing Mairon to let go of him long enough to allow them both to change.

"Mairon. I'm going to get you ready for bed now, okay? It means I'll have to let go of you, but I will still be here."

Mairon reflexively tightened his grip.

"Don't want you to leave me." He whispered. "Don't want to go to sleep."

Námo smoothed his hair away from his face.

"I know. And I'm not leaving you tonight. You're staying right here with me and Vairë; Marilwë is as well. Once we are ready, you can cuddle me all night."

Mairon raised his head.

"Really? I can stay with you all night? You aren't going to make me leave?"

Námo shook his head.

"Nobody is going to make you leave. I swore to look after and protect you, remember? But, you'll be very uncomfortable if you don't change into nightclothes. Vairë brought you some; let's get you changed before she and Marilwë come back."

Mairon reluctantly consented, though he didn't let Námo out of his sight. He also stayed very tense until they were both laying down in the bed. Only when he was once again cuddled up to the Vala did the tension bleed out of his body. Námo began rubbing his neck again, chuckling at the purrs to greet the action.

"You sound like a cat."

Mairon didn't move, nor did he open his eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with cats. I like cats; they know their own mind and aren't afraid to show it. I admire that. Mmmmmm…."

Vairë came back into the room in time to hear what he said, and laughed.

"You sound happy, Mairon."

An unintelligible sound was the only response she got. Marilwë left her, scrambling up on the bed to curl up on Námo's other side. Reaching for Mairon, the Maiar linked their hands together, resting them on the midsection of Námo's fana. The Vala raised an eyebrow at that, before putting an arm around each of them. He then raised his eyes to meet those of his wife.

Smiling at him, Vairë dimmed the lamps before laying down next to her husband's – and by proxy their – newest child.

* * *

**Fun Fact: The first part of this chapter was one of the first scenes I wrote for this story. And the last scene of them all cuddling together is one I've been dreaming of writing ever since I started this story. **

***authors melts into a happy pile of goo at the feels***


	17. Interlude 2

**Just a few short scenes that take place between the main events of Chapters 16 and 18. I felt they needed to be part of the main narrative.**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Interlude 2 **

Marilwë blinked awake, disoriented. The bed she was in wasn't her own. The sheets scratched differently, and the smells were completely different. She started freaking out, before realizing that the warm mass she was curled against was actually that of Námo…

Wait, she was in her lord's bed? How had that happened?

As she woke up fully, her memories of the previous day started returning. She looked across Námo at Mairon. Her new brother was curled around the Doomsman, head resting on their lord's chest. A smile crossed her face as she saw that. After the scare they'd had the day before, it was good seeing him so relaxed. However, as she got a closer look at him, the smile froze on her face.

*My lord? My lord!*

The panic in her voice had Námo quickly turning to look over at her. Accessing their mental link, he sent waves of calm and peace across it.

*What is it, Marilwë? You're both safe. There's no need to fear.*

The Maia swallowed.

*What – what happened to Mairon's neck? His throat… it-it looks like it was shredded…did, did** He **do that?*

Námo didn't have to look to know what his chief was talking about.

*That's one way to describe it. No, Marilwë. Morgoth wasn't responsible for that. Not directly. Huan left those.*

Marilwë blinked, before frowning.

*Celegorm's hound? Why?*

Námo's mental voice was calm.

*That's not my story to tell.*

Marilwë, now she'd gotten over her initial horror, looked away.

*I – don't need to be told. I… think I have an idea of what happened. There's a tapestry in the Halls, part of the Lúthien Saga, that I've never looked at too closely. It's too upsetting. But, I remember one scene has Lúthien, Huan, and Mairon in it…*

Námo mentally shook his head.

*Nay, child. You've made a slight mistake. It depicts Lúthien, Huan and Sauron. The Maia we know now is not Sauron. And, neither does he want to be. Mairon made it extremely clear he wants to leave that part of his life behind. The Valar respect that.*

Marilwë looked at him questioningly.

*How am I supposed to refer to what happened back then, if that is the case?*

Námo smiled gently at her.

*Say Sauron did it. Mairon himself sees Mairon and Sauron as two separate individuals. While they can never be completely separated from each other, they are different.*

Before Marilwë could respond, Mairon opened his eyes. The Maia blinked at the ceiling in confusion before turning his head to see whom he was cuddled up to. Upon seeing Námo, his face lit up.

The Vala's lips twitched.

"Good morning, Mairon. How did you sleep?"

The Maia suddenly gave a huge yawn. Looking embarrassed, he cuddled back up to his new lord.

"Very well, considering I didn't think I would be able to sleep at all. Not after yesterday. But I didn't have any dreams, good or bad, as I feared."

Námo nodded.

"We wouldn't let that happen. Even the most stubborn nightmare is no match for my brother when he decides he is doing something about it."

Mairon's smile was hesitant but genuine.

"Th-thank you, my lord."

Námo kissed his forehead.

"You're welcome, my little one."

Looking across at Marilwë, Mairon frowned at the troubled look on her face.

"What's wrong, Maril?"

The female Maia swallowed. Looking at her lord, she received an encouraging look. Námo obviously felt she should say what was bothering her…

"Before you woke up, I – I saw your throat and neck."

Marion blinked, but then his gaze cleared in understanding. Reaching up to feel around his throat, the Maia lowered his gaze.

"Oh. I'm sorry. These nightclothes aren't my usual ones. Mine all have higher necklines. I didn't mean for you to see."

Marilwë frowned, her eyes once again not able to leave the thick scar tissue marring Mairon's slim throat. It didn't cover the whole throat (being concentrated in four spots), but the wounds he'd suffered had obviously been deep, the scars they'd left behind jagged and rough even now.

"It's not that. It – was it painful?"

Marion nodded.

"Yes. I –" He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands. "At one point, I thought I was going to die."

Marilwë swallowed again.

"But-but…we can't die."

Námo entered their conversation to shake his head.

"While our fëar cannot die, our fanar can be damaged to the point where they are uninhabitable. At that point, we must leave them, or risk damage to our fëa."

Seeing the conflicted look on his friend's face, Mairon nodded.

"It's true, Maril. It almost happened to me."

Marilwë looked slightly ill.

"How?"

Mairon sighed, reaching over to grasp her hand reassuringly.

"I was a big enough fool to think I could take on Lúthien and Huan. Do yourself a favour; _never_ underestimate your opponent, no matter who they are. It was a mistake I made, more than once I'm ashamed to admit. And, every time, I paid dearly for it."

At seeing the horrified look on Marilwë's face, Mairon gave her a wry smile.

"But it's in the past now. Marilwë. Please, don't worry about it. I don't. It's not the worst thing to have happened to me, though they might be the worst scars I have. If only by association with the event that caused them."

It took Marilwë a while to respond.

"You – you have others?"

Mairon nodded.

"Yes. Many more."

"Why…do you not think them away?"

Marion's eyes clouded.

"I've tried. But they won't budge. Lady Estë thinks it's due to the traumatic circumstances of how I got them. Her theory is they are imprinted on my very soul, and as Morgoth bound that…"

Mairon gave her a watery smile.

"At least until his influence is removed, they remain. Don't worry about it. I try not to."

The female Maia sighed. While her eyes showed deep pain at learning all this, there was also acceptance of her fellow Maia's words.

"Okay. I just wish you'd never had to go through all that."

Mairon didn't give her an answer, but Námo heard his almost silent whisper as he cuddled up to the Vala.

"Me too."

* * *

Námo looked down at Mairon. The Maia had been in here with him all morning, refusing to leave the Vala's side since he'd been attacked. While he didn't feel the need to cling to Námo like he had last night (which the Vala was grateful for. As much as he enjoyed cuddling with his children, Mairon had wanted to do it for all the wrong reasons), he still didn't want to leave his presence.

Right now, the Lord of Mandos was sitting on one of Vairë's couches; Mairon was sprawled on the floor at his feet. The young Maia was laying on his stomach, staring into the flames of the fire burning in the fireplace. It was heading into the colder season, and was chilly enough that a fire didn't go astray.

Marilwë was not with them. She'd had to go attend to her duties. With Mairon's reluctance to leave Námo's side, it was up to the Vala's Maiar to organise the fëar. They were all experienced in doing so; he didn't need to be there for that. Leaving him free to devote his time to his newest charge.

Sensing his gaze, his newest Maia tilted his head up to look questioningly at the Lord of Mandos.

"My lord? Is something wrong?"

Námo shook his head.

"No. I'm just wondering, why me? I know I was the first you came to trust, but…I'm curious to hear the rationale behind your decision to serve me. While I am delighted and honoured to have you, I honestly thought your skills and personality would line up more with one of the others."

Mairon's face coloured as he looked away.

"Do we have to go there now?"

"I would like it if we did. I know you must have picked me for a specific reason. I'd like to know what that reason is, so I can give you what you need."

With a sigh, Mairon sat up, resting his back against the Vala's leg. Looking up at his lord, the Maia deliberated how to best phrase what he wanted to say.

"He feared you."

Námo blinked.

"Who feared me?"

"Morgoth. When he came back after being imprisoned here. He was terrified of you. Apparently, you made quite the impression on him."

Námo was shocked to hear that, though he was careful not to let it show.

"Really? Did he give you a reason why?"

Mairon shrugged.

"No. But, given his behaviour when he came back, and your behaviour since I've been here, I can make a guess. You're powerful. Maybe not as powerful as some of the others, but the power you have is of a different nature to theirs." Mairon frowned, as if attempting to place a smell or a taste. "It's… darker, yet still good and free of evil. He feared that. Before you caught him the first time, he looked on you all as weak and spineless fools. When he came back…well, let's just say he no longer held that opinion."

Námo internally smirked. Mairon continued talking, oblivious to his lord's inner thoughts.

"His time here seemingly made him realise the Valar were not as helpless as he'd once thought. Especially you."

Námo grimly smiled to himself. Melkor wasn't wrong there. He'd once been _very_ helpless again the corrupt Vala.

"How did that influence your decision to serve me?"

Mairon's freckled face turning a shade of pink that clashed with his copper hair.

"You're strong enough to scare the one who hurt and tortured me. Yet, you've been nothing but kind to me since I arrived. I figured…" Mairon looked away, his voice becoming rough. "I figured, if you're strong and powerful enough to scare him, then you're strong enough to protect me from him." His voice grew soft. "And from myself."

Námo stilled.

"Mairon. Why do you feel you need protecting from yourself?"

The Maia involuntarily shivered.

"I – his power in me. I-I can't control it. I never could. It's too much for me to wield without bending to the will of someone much stronger. He knew that. He often boasted how he'd done it on purpose to ensure I could never be free of him."

Námo began having an inkling of where this was going.

"You're afraid you'll lose control."

The Maia swallowed.

"Yes."

"You trust I can prevent that from happening."

Mairon frowned.

"No. But I trust if it_ does _happen, you're strong enough to do whatever is necessary to stop me. The other Valar…I don't know if they could. But, if it happens, I will _need_ to be stopped. By any means necessary. I-I know you will do just that. Without unnecessarily hurting me in the process."

The Maia looked away as he said that, his shoulders tensing. Through the special bond that was forming between them (had begun forming the moment they had sworn their oaths to each other), Námo sent out a wave of calm, hoping to settle the fears.

Fears which had unsettled him more then he cared to admit.

"I won't let you fall to the darkness again, Mairon. None of us will. Tell me. Why do you think you're going to lose control?"

Mairon shook his head.

"I – I don't know. I just _feel _it's going to happen. The longer the power is bound, the greater this feeling becomes. I…am afraid of what may happen when this necklace is taken off."

"If it makes you feel better, that's not going to happen for a good while."

Mairon looked down.

"I know. But, you say it will one day…"

Námo nodded.

"Yes. That is our plan. However, when we do take it off, we will not let the darkness enslave you again. You never have to go through that again, my little one." Mairon just nodded, not trusting his voice, as Námo continued. "And, I will do everything in my power to ensure these fears of yours are unfounded. I promise."

Mairon didn't reply, his shoulders still tense. Reaching down, Námo began carding his nails over Mairon's scalp. The Maia_ loved _head scratches, and it wasn't long before he was purring in contentment, a happy shudder running through his entire body as the tension bled out of his shoulders

Smiling to himself, the Vala continued his ministrations, as he contemplated all Mairon had just told him.

* * *

"You stupid pea-brained orc! I can't believe you were so careless! I told you to watch Marilwë and warn us if she attempted anything! Thanks to your inattentiveness, we were almost caught!"

The younger Maia looked at his feet, deeply uncomfortable.

"Sorry."

The first Maia huffed.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. Not for something like this. And if word gets out about what happened…I thought you said you were up to the task. You had one job. One. Job. Making sure that stuck-up Chief of Mandos was not clear-minded or coherent enough to call her lord. And you failed. A failure that almost ended in disaster for us. You told me you could control people through visions!"

The younger Maia glared at his elder.

"I do know how to give people visions and muddle their thoughts. At least in theory. I've heard the others talk about it often enough, and have even tried it a few times. But, her mind was way stronger than anything I have ever encountered. Most of it, I could not get anywhere near; her link with her lord being one of those things! She was guarding it with a fierceness that would have decimated me if I'd tried! Remember, she serves one-half of the Fëanturi brothers! They are called Masters of Spirits for a reason."

"And you serve the other half, the one whose official title is Master of Visions and Dreams!"

"_Master _being the appropriate word here! I'm just learning the absolute basics! I haven't served him for long enough to know all the tricks. If you wanted an expert, then you picked the wrong person."

The other Maia looked at him with his glowing orange eyes.

"No, I picked the right person. Who else could I trust not to give me away? You won't ever dare betray me. You owe me, remember? Your sister would not be with us if not for my actions, and you wouldn't be in the position you are in."

The younger Maia looked down again.

"I know." He whispered. His elder chuckled.

"That's my good little boy. Now, listen carefully…"

* * *

**Um, discount Melkor/Morgoth anyone? I swear, I did not plan it to turn out that way…**


	18. Councils

**Chapter 18: Councils**

The Valar were in council.

Well, thirteen of them were. Ulmo had yet to show, but there was no guarantee he ever would arrive. He'd been invited, but no one had heard anything from the Lord of Water for weeks.

No one was concerned though. The lack of communication wasn't unusual. Excluding Manwë, Ulmo didn't have much to do with any of the other Valar. And, it was even rarer he consented to leave his beloved seas to walk on land.

With that in mind, after waiting a few minutes, Manwë had declared they would start anyway. If Ulmo arrived later, they could fill him in on what happened.

Námo and Irmo had just finished explaining all that had happened in Lórien for the benefit of those who didn't know. All the Valar were shocked and horrified when they heard about the attack.

"How could this happen? I thought Lórien was safe!" Aulë looked at Irmo imploringly. "It's your domain; how can you not know how this happened?"

For once, there was no hint of laughter or mischief in Irmo's silver eyes. Only cool determination.

"I'm trying to figure that out myself. The only answer I have come up with that makes sense is that a power darker and stronger than mine is behind this."

Vána paled.

"That – doesn't sound good. _No one_ in Valinor should be powerful enough to defeat one of us. The elves don't have that sort of power. As for the Maiar…I know some of them are powerful. But, they should still not be able to do this. I think…"

What she thought, she never got a chance to say. Vána trailed off as a sudden chill and a strong smell of salt, permeated the air in the Máhanaxar. That was the only warning the Valar got before the humidity rose several notches and a wave materialised in front of them, soaking them all. Almost immediately, the wave dissipated leaving a tall, humanoid figure in its place.

"Sorry I'm late."

Ulmo looked around at their shocked and dripping expressions with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

Manwë answered him.

"We – are a bit surprised to see you, is all. We weren't sure you'd turn up. You hate being on land, almost as much as you hate attending councils. And your method of entry was less than stellar. I'm going to smell like salt for days."

Ulmo's fana solidified into something more akin to the other Valar (though he still left a trail of wet footprints) as he took his seat. He looked sheepish, even though everyone was now dry again. It took more than an unexpected shower of seawater to worry them.

"Sorry about that. I didn't anticipate how large the wave would be. And, in answer to what you first said – I might hate attending councils, but I'm willing to make the occasional exception. If the matter being discussed is important enough, that is. And, from what I understand, this qualifies as important enough. What exactly happened to Mairon?"

Irmo gave him a basic rundown of events. Ulmo frowned heavily.

"This can't be good."

Aulë gave him an incredulous look.

"A Maia under our direct protection was attacked by what we suspect were other Maiar in what is supposed to be a safe place, and that's all you have to say about it!"

Ulmo blinked.

"What do you expect me to say?"

Yavanna cut them off.

"That's enough, you two. Irmo, you were saying you think dark power caused this?"

The Vala of Dreams nodded.

"Yes. Even though I don't know who would have that sort of power. Or who would be bold, or stupid, enough to attack them in Lórien. They were on the outer edge of my Gardens, that is true, but they hadn't left the boundaries. Whoever did this managed to hide their presence from me _in my_ _own gardens_!"

Ulmo raised an eyebrow.

"Mairon wasn't the only one to be attacked? Who else was?"

Námo answered.

"Marilwë was with him. They were having a picnic. Though she wasn't physically attacked, her senses were blanked out."

Ulmo looked thoughtful.

"Marilwë. That name sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?"

Nienna spoke up for the first time.

"She was one of those targeted by Morgoth the second time."

Ulmo snapped his fingers.

"That's why I remember the name. Wasn't she one of the ones he tried to corrupt around then? She's your Chief, isn't she?"

Námo nodded.

"One of them."

Ulmo's frown deepened.

"Who could have attacked them? And why?"

Manwë shook his head.

"We don't know. That is why we're here. As has already been stated; we believe it was other Maiar behind it. But, we still have no idea who they were, or whom they serve. It could potentially be anyone."

Ulmo looked even more concerned.

"Are you telling me we have Maiar in our midst who are willing to rebel against us and our authority by attacking their own kin?"

Manwë looked very troubled.

"So it seems. At the very least, they don't agree with our decisions regarding Mairon. And they are willing to take matters into their own hands, for whatever reason. We can't let these deeds go unpunished. But, whoever did this needs serious help themselves. Before we can do anything, though, we must find whoever is behind this. Does anyone have any ideas about how to go about doing that?"

No one did. After a solid hour of fruitless discussion, Manwë was almost ready to bang his head against a wall. He hadn't felt this frustrated and helpless in a long time. It was only the knowledge he was the eldest, and so had to set an example to the others, that allowed him to remain outwardly calm and in control. Though, by the look Námo was giving him, Manwë knew the other Vala felt the same way.

Especially seeing it was _his_ Maiar who had been attacked. Irmo was also upset, trying to figure out how this had happened in _his own gardens _without him knowing. Truth be told, that fact had rattled Manwë more than the attack had.

They'd known Mairon would face opposition here thanks to Námo's foresight. They just hadn't known it would be like this.

They hadn't _dreamt_ someone would take advantage of Mairon in a place where he should be _safe_. Whoever had done this needed serious help. And soon. Yet, no one could think of a way to find them. Apart from keeping an extremely close eye on Mairon and waiting for it to happen again.

That it _would_ happen again was the one thing they could all agree on. Whoever had done this was desperate, mad, or both; it was a given they would not stop with just one attack.

Just when Manwë was ready to give up on anything productive coming out of this council, Aulë spoke with great hesitation.

"If we can't stop the attacks, we need to make sure Mairon is protected when they come." Everyone fell silent; all eyes went to the Smith who paused, debating whether or not to say anymore. Manwë noticed his hesitation.

"It's okay, my son. You may speak freely; none here will judge you. What is it you were going to say?"

Aulë sighed. While his words were addressed to them all, his eyes were fixed on Námo. "What about if I figured out a way for Mairon to access his Maiarin abilities, while still keeping the dark ones locked away?"

Námo said nothing in response, his expression and posture impassive. Manwë, on the other hand, fastened his eyes on Aulë.

"What have you made?"

The Smith looked sheepish.

"I'm currently working on a modified design of his necklace, trying to see if I can block specific powers. If it works, it will allow him access to only his base Maiarin abilities. In this way, I hope to keep those that came later contained, while still allowing him to think himself places, use basic fire and earth abilities, and the other base things we can all do." He sighed. "There's no guarantee it will work, but it_ is_ showing promise. Sorry I didn't tell you, Manwë, but so far, no design has worked properly. I would have told you when I'd finished one that I thought might."

Manwë frowned, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Do you think it will work? If he has access to even his base abilities, he will be in a better position to defend himself if needed. Right now, he's virtually defenceless."

Aulë shrugged.

"I don't know. And we won't know until we try it out on him. While this design shows promise, it may do nothing to block any of them; or it may block them all. This is the first time I have ever attempted to do something like this. I'm learning as I go."

Manwë nodded.

"Very well. Aulë, I want you to keep working on this. See if you can come up with a design that works, and keep me informed. In the meantime, Mairon will stay in Mandos. Námo. I think you should be the one to break the news to them about his decision."

Everyone but Vairë, Irmo, Estë and Manwë looked at Námo questioningly. The Doomsman gave them a satisfied look.

"After the attack, Mairon swore fealty to me. I accepted his oath."

There was silence for a long moment. Varda broke it. The Star Queen was smiling.

"I'm not surprised. He trusts you like he trusts no one else. Whenever anything happens, it's always you he asks for."

Ulmo, not having witnessed nor heard about the events of the past year-and-a-half or so, also smiled at the news. Even though he looked mildly confused.

"Okay. He's doing much better then?"

Námo nodded.

"Barring this attack, which has understandably shaken his confidence and feeling of safety. He doesn't want to leave Mandos right now, nor does he really want to leave my presence."

Yavanna looked up.

"Where is he now, then?"

Vairë answered.

"Eärwá volunteered to keep an eye on him. And Marilwë is also there. She and Mairon have gotten very close recently."

The Weaver smiled as she said the last sentence, exchanging a knowing look with her husband. Several among the Valar recognised there was more to this then she was telling. However, before anyone could say anything about it, Aulë looked at the Doomsman. The Smith's eyes held deep pain, though the rest of his expression was more neutral.

"Congratulations, brother. You –" he swallowed deeply. "You have a fine Maia in your service."

Námo's voice was soft, though his expression and posture didn't change.

"I know."

* * *

When the Doomsman returned to Mandos a little later, he internally smiled at seeing Mairon curled up next to Eärwá. The older Maia was reading to him and Marilwë; Námo's chief was sitting on her other side.

At first, Námo thought his newest charge was sleeping. Mairon's eyes were closed, his breathing steady. However, no sooner had he appeared, then the copper-haired Maia stirred, blinking at him.

"My lord?"

Námo knelt in front of his child.

"Yes, Mairon?"

The Maia smiled, leaning forward to rest his head against the Vala's chest. Eärwá had since stopped reading, watching them with a small smile.

"You're back."

Námo gently kissed his brow.

"I am. Everything been okay?"

Námo looked at Eärwá, who nodded.

"Yes, Lord Námo. Everything has been fine."

Marilwë spoke up from her other side.

"How was the council?"

Námo sighed. Scooping up Mairon (whom he suspected was in the process of falling asleep on him), he sat down next to Eärwá.

"It was mostly useless. No one had an immediate solution to anything. We have a few ideas to go with, but nothing definite. No one had any suggestions about where to even_ start _looking for answers."

Neither Marilwë or Eärwá asked more questions. Eärwá soon left them to attend to Vairë. Marilwë stayed, cuddling up to Námo. The Vala put an arm around her, continuing to cradle a now sleeping Mairon in his arms. As Marilwë too drifted off to sleep, Námo stared into the fire, deep in thought.

* * *

"The Valar held council this morning to discuss the recent events in Lórien. However, I understand no one had a solution, or any useful ideas of how to go about finding the party, or parties, responsible."

Eärwá paused, looking around at the Maiar who had gathered. Most served Lord Námo, but she was not the only one of Lady Vairë's people present. Quentalë and Ingamírë were also there, along with a few others.

"Seeing it was two of our own who were attacked, I feel we should see if we can help them."

Nurulírë frowned.

"How? If the Valar's chances of finding out the truth are slim…" The male Maia shrugged. "What hope do we have?"

Eärwá grinned at him.

"Glad you asked. Most of us have siblings serving with other Valar. Whoever is doing this clearly doesn't want the Valar to find out. However, they may let something slip to their fellow Maiar, our siblings. Or, some might even be in league with them. I know none of us wants to think our siblings or friends are involved with this, but we can't deny what happened. Someone has to be behind it."

There was silence for a long moment as they all digested this. Alassë was the first to speak.

"Are you saying we need to ask our siblings if they've heard anything helpful? Even though they might be involved with what's happening, and so wish to keep it secret?"

Eärwá shook her head. She might not be the eldest in Mandos, nor even the eldest among her Lady's Maiar, but everyone looked up to her. She was wise and compassionate, being something of a mother-figure to _all _the Maiar of Mandos.

"No, we need to keep this discrete. If we're to have a hope of finding out anything, _no one _outside the Maiar of Mandos can know what we're doing."

Astarion spoke up.

"Our lord will know. He knows everything that happens, whether we tell him or not. I'm not going to hide this from him."

Eärwá shook her head.

"You don't have to. And I don't mean to hide it from Vairë either, if she asks. However, those outside of Mandos can't know what we are doing. If those behind this attack get wind we are trying to find them…"

For the first time, Eärwá looked uneasy.

"They were prepared to attack two of their fellows in the Gardens of Lórien. One of whom who has been shown mercy by the Valar and is under their direct protection and jurisdiction. The other is a chief of Námo's Maiar. If they are prepared to go that far – I don't want any of you ending up in the line of fire like Marilwë did. Or any of our siblings being endangered."

Everyone sobered at that thought. Astarion's twin was not present, but everyone had heard about what had happened.

Tavaril voiced what they were all thinking.

"This idea has the potential to rebound on us in a bad way."

Eärwá nodded.

"Yes. I'm aware of that. Which is why you all must make the decision for yourselves as to whether you want to do this. And, if you decide not to, I just ask that you don't say anything that will hinder those who say yes."

Every single person in the room spoke at once.

"We would _never_ do that."

Everyone then fell silent. Many were more than a little embarrassed about speaking in unison. Then, several started chuckling as they saw the funny side of it. Soon, everyone was grinning. And the tension that had been in the air during Eärwá's talk had all but dissipated.

Nurulírë was the first to speak. His voice held a hint of a grin, though his expression was suitably serious.

"As you can see, none of us would dream of doing that. With what happened…any one of us could be next in the firing line. If nothing else, this attack proves whoever is behind this does not care for the Valar's authority, and is fine with collateral damage. With that in mind, I think we should make plans for how we are going to tackle this. Alassë. Your brother serves Lord Aulë, doesn't he?"

As the Maiar started making lists of who had siblings serving what Valar, Quentalë leant over to whisper in his wife's ear.

"What is it, my love? Why such concern over Mairon?"

Eärwá swallowed, resting her head on her husband's shoulder.

"He – he's barely more than a child, Quen. I know he probably isn't that much younger than some of us, but he's not had the loving and safe environment to mature in like we have. Has not had a loving and kind Vala looking after him and teaching him. What he did have…he is mentally scarred, Quen. Beyond anyone I've ever seen. His trust in Lord Námo is beautiful to see. But, for me, it also highlights how he was denied the love and protection we take for granted for so long."

At hearing the unshed tears in her voice, Quentalë hugged her.

"I understand why that upsets you, my love. But he is here now, and we _will _get to the bottom of these attacks. There's not one in these Halls who wants to see Mairon hurt. And with the Valar behind us…we will win, Eärwá. I know it."

The female Maia looked at him.

"That's not what I'm worried about, Quen. I know we will." Eärwá glanced at the other Maiar, all of whom were deep in discussions, before lowering her voice even more. "I'm just concerned with what will happen between now and then."

She received no reply to that.

* * *

**Tavaril and Nurulírë are Námo's Maiar who you will see again. Ingamírë serves Vairë. **


	19. Rumours

**The events of this chapter happen a few days after the last.**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Rumours**

Námo gently frowned at Tavaril.

"Say it again, but slower, my child. I could barely understand a word."

His Maia obeyed. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Tavaril tried to speak at a more normal speed.

"My lord, there's a troubling rumour circulating among the Maiar regarding Mairon."

Námo, not being aware of any rumours, regarded her thoughtfully.

"What did your sisters have to say when you 'interrogated' them?"

Tavaril gave an impish grin.

"I shouldn't be surprised you know about Eärwá's idea."

Námo's lips twitched.

"It's my job to know these things. I approve, by the way. Very much so. Now, tell me exactly what they said. Don't leave anything out."

* * *

All five sisters were sitting together in Vána's garden, chatting. It had been a while since they'd all been together, and they had a lot to catch up on.

Lalmë was the one who'd first brought up the subject when asking Tavaril how life in Mandos was going.

"I imagine it must be hard being there right now. What with everything that's happened."

Tavaril frowned, looking across at her older sibling.

"What do you mean 'with everything that's happened'?"

Lalmë looked at her youngest sister with surprise.

"Come on, sis. You know what I mean. There's no way you could have missed it, living in Mandos and all. I mean, with Morgoth's _ex_-lieutenant turning on us and having to be imprisoned there."

Tavaril just managed to control her shock, mostly hiding how much those words disturbed her. Though, her reply held a sharpness that was most uncharacteristic for her.

"His name is Mairon and who told you that?"

Tyulussë looked at Lalmë with a frown.

"Yes, his name is Mairon. We have been told to call him that. At least, Lady Yavanna told me and Tasarë. Did Lady Vána not tell you?"

Lalmë looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"She did, but he's still Morgoth's ex-lieutenant!" She put her hands on her hips, glaring at her older sibling. "Or maybe not-so-ex. Changing his name to something prettier does not change _that_ fact."

Fernë defended her.

"Lalmë is right. We can't forget what he's done, especially if the rumours are true. To do that would be to open ourselves up to another Darkening."

An argument quickly developed between Lalmë, Fernë, and Tyulussë over whether Mairon was a threat to them or not. Tasarë, the closest to Tavaril in age, said nothing, observing the events with an impassive expression. Tavaril slowly started getting over her shock, though her concern grew the longer she listened to them.

The very idea that Mairon had attacked someone, and was imprisoned in Mandos because of it, was incomprehensible to Námo's Maia. She liked Mairon; had found him to be a very caring and sensitive individual. Just as she was about to break up their argument and demand to be told more, Tasarë spoke to her in a quiet voice.

"Tavaril. That's not what really happened, is it?"

Námo's Maia looked at her. Her and Tasarë had always been close. Closer than they were to any of the others.

"No. And I've no idea where this story could have come from. Where did you hear it?"

Tasarë looked worried.

"I heard it from Lalmë, but I actually don't know where she heard it. Maybe from one of Oromë's folk? Or Nessa's?" She shrugged. "She's been spending a lot of time around their Maiar lately, more than she ever has before. I – I have a suspicion she's taken a fancy to someone from their followings."

Tavaril raised an eyebrow.

"Really? But she's never even looked at anyone twice before!"

Tasarë nodded.

"I know. That's why I – hang on. I remember now. It was after she came back from a hunt with them and some of Tulkas' folk that I heard about it. It was the favourite topic of discussion. A discussion that has only grown as the information spreads."

Tavaril leant forward.

"What exactly is being said?"

"There are several versions, but the basic events are the same. Mairon turned on someone in Lórien and the Valar responded by imprisoning him in Mandos. Some versions say it was even one of the Valar themselves he turned on. Others that it was another Maia, and there's another version that says he simply went crazy."

Tavaril's mind was working overtime.

"How are people reacting to this?"

Tasarë looked pensive.

"Opinions are mixed. Some believe it's the only truth they've ever heard, some are horrified, some are sceptical, while a surprising number have taken a neutral stance."

Tavaril frowned.

"What do you think?"

Tasarë looked pensive.

"I'm staying out of it as much as possible, seeing there's no proof as to what happened. Though, I can't see the Valar allowing anyone to endanger things again. Not after last time. Is Mairon okay?"

Tavaril nodded.

"He will be. It'll take time, however, because that isn't what happened at all. None of those stories are true."

Tasarë leant forward.

"I was rather sceptical of them all myself. What happened?"

Tavaril sighed.

"That's what we would love to know, and I'm afraid I don't have leave to tell you what we _do _know. Not yet, though that may change soon. In the meantime, I don't suppose you can point me in the direction these rumours started?"

Tasarë looked disappointed, shaking her head.

"No. As I said, I first heard it from Lalmë. And she's not shared how she came by that information. Though it's rapidly becoming common knowledge now."

Tavaril sighed heavily, even as a particularly sharp word had the two youngest looking to where their older siblings were still arguing. Tavaril frowned.

"Do you think we should intervene? I'd like to hear their opinions on the rumour."

Tasarë looked at her.

"You want to have all the angles aligned before going to your lord about this?"

Tavaril sighed.

"I'm not that subtle, am I?"

Tasarë smiled.

"You are, actually. The others will probably think you're just as bad a gossip as they are. However, we're too much alike for me not to know what you're thinking. I'd do the same thing in your situation. Tavaril. I don't know exactly what happened, but whatever it is can't be good. It makes sense the Valar want to get to the bottom of it."

Tavaril nodded.

"You're correct. Is there anything else you can tell me that may help with finding out who's behind these rumours?"

Tasarë shook her head.

"I've told you all I know. I'll keep alert, however, and report anything else I find. Now, I think it's time we broke up our sisters."

Tavaril looked at the still-arguing trio.

"I suddenly remember why we don't often all meet at once. Tyulussë and Lalmë really do not get along that well."

Tasarë chuckled.

"Maybe so, but they enjoy every minute of it. It's the rest of us who suffer. Hey, sisters! Tavaril will have to go back home soon. You don't want to waste any more of her visiting time arguing, do you?"

* * *

Námo was silent for a long time when Tavaril finished speaking. The Maia just watched her lord silently, waiting for him to speak. She could tell he was troubled by what she'd learnt. Indeed, Tavaril herself was troubled by it all.

As Tasarë had said, this couldn't end well.

"Your other sisters didn't have anything useful to add?"

Tavaril shook her head.

"No. I didn't even manage to get a name. Lalmë clammed up when I started asking whom she'd been spending so much time with. The other two didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."

Námo nodded.

"Okay. Thank you, Tavaril. If Tasarë tells you anything else, let me know. But, please, don't worry yourself about it too much. We will get to the bottom of things, and we'll do it with as little collateral damage as possible. You can tell the others that as well."

Tavaril looked at the ground.

"We just want to help. Mairon's our brother now, and Marilwë's one of our chiefs."

Námo's voice was gentle.

"I know, and I think what you're doing is a very good and brave idea. I just want you all to be careful. I don't want anyone else getting hurt. And we will deal with this rumour as well, okay? I don't want any of you worrying about that either."

"Okay, my lord. I – will try not to." She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, before continuing. "My lord…should I say anything to Mairon about this? The way it's spreading, he's going to find out one way or another."

Námo sighed, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, his expression was slightly distant.

"He's on his way here now. I would like you to stay." He added as Tavaril made to leave. "He's going to need comfort and reassurance when he hears about this. While I'm here, having your support will mean a lot to him. Especially because he doesn't know you very well. It will reassure him he is a part of our family now, and that nothing that happens is going to change that."

* * *

Sometime later, Námo sat alone in his study, deep in thought.

Telling Mairon about these rumours had gone much better than he'd thought it would. However, the resigned way the Maia accepted them pained Námo greatly. Despite doing better, Mairon still had so little self-esteem and sense of self-worth. He seemed to think he deserved to be thought of in this way, and had a hard time accepting he was worth anything to anyone just because.

Having Tavaril there had helped greatly in that regard, as the Vala had known it would. She'd shut that notion down as soon as it had been voiced, leaving no room for argument. When the two Maiar eventually left his study, her arm had been wrapped around Mairon's shoulders (as it had been for most of the conversation) as she gave him her unconditional support and love.

Once he'd been alone once more, the Lord of Mandos allowed a deep frown to grace his features as he thought about all he'd just learnt.

The implications this had for Mairon aside, this rumour was an interesting development. It was the first Námo had heard of it, and he could draw only one conclusion.

Whoever had attacked Mairon and Marilwë wanted to turn everyone against his newest charge. That had to be their motive for what they were doing. Otherwise, why mention anything about it at all?

Námo allowed himself a grim smile as the future shifted, though he could not see anything clearly just yet.

That attitude would be their undoing. The Vala knew, with certainty, it was now only a matter of time before whoever was behind this would reveal themselves.

However, that knowledge didn't help in the meantime.

As the future shifted yet again, to something less than favourable, Námo made a swift decision.

He needed to see Manwë.

* * *

The Vice-gerent of Arda was rather surprised when Námo suddenly materialised in front of him, asking to speak in private. For the Doomsman to come in person, not even sending a message beforehand, indicated something serious had happened.

Once he'd heard what Námo had to say, Manwë confirmed to himself this rumour was _very_ serious. As were the implications it had for the future.

"The future aside, you're saying there are many among our Maiar who believe this rumour?"

Námo nodded.

"In the absence of anything else to believe, you can't blame them. However, we need to stop it. Now, before it gets out of hand and starts turning the Maiar against Mairon. He had enough trouble with that when he was with Aulë."

Manwë frowned.

"What happened?"

Námo shook his head.

"Nothing bad; namely, he was ignored or made to feel very uncomfortable by those who deigned to grace the forges while he was there. Aulë is at a loss of what to do about it."

Manwë gave in to the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose. He swore he could feel a headache coming on just from thinking about all this.

"Do you have any suggestions on how to stop the rumour?"

Námo nodded smugly.

"I do."

Manwë opened his eyes.

"Do share."

"You are going to hold a special banquet."

Manwë choked on his last breath. When he'd recovered, he looked at the Doomsman in confusion.

"I am?"

Námo nodded.

"Yes. You are going to hold it in your mansion in Valmar and invite all the Valar to attend."

Manwë just blinked. A note of amusement crept into Námo's voice as he continued outlining his plan.

"As I said before, it will be a special banquet. Because each of us will invite one of our Maiar to sit at the high table with us."

Manwë was starting to get an inkling of where this was going.

"Let me guess. It will be a high honour for whomever is invited to join us?"

Námo nodded.

"Yes. I imagine most will bring their chiefs. I, however, will bring Mairon. If that isn't enough to shatter the rumour that says he is a prisoner or in disgrace, than I don't know what will."

Manwë frowned.

"One question. How will Marilwë and Astarion react to him being chosen?"

Námo looked grim.

"They will be fine. And, it's not like the chiefs specifically are going to be invited. Each Vala will decide for themselves whom they will bring. With your permission, however, I will have Marilwë and Astarion serve Vairë, Mairon, Eärwá and I at the banquet."

Manwë raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know Eärwá will be there?"

Námo gave him a look.

"Who else is Vairë going to bring? Eärwá is her sister, daughter, confidant, and second-in-command – the first Maia to ever swear an oath to her. Plus, she's like a mother to those in Mandos. Once they hear about this, no one else will accept anyone but Eärwá having this honour."

"And yours will be okay with Mairon having the honour?"

Námo nodded confidently.

"They will. Especially if they are permitted the honour of serving us."

Manwë looked thoughtful.

"If Marilwë and Astarion are going to be serving you, why don't I tell all the Valar to select a few of their people to help out with the work at the banquet? I know Lámárë is going to go into panic mode when I tell her she must host fourteen Valar and as many Maiar for a banquet in two days' time. I know you want it sooner," the Elder King added when he saw Námo's expression, "but I can't, in good conscience, give her any less time to prepare. As it is, two days is still far too short a time to organise everything properly. The promise of other people doing the serving and helping to clean up on the night might help mollify her a little."

Námo nodded.

"I know it'll be hard for her. Which is why I'll send Fanyamírë over to help plan the menu and run things on the night. Lámárë can also have as many of my people as she needs to help organise and set-up on the day. The Maiar of Mandos are very efficient."

Manwë grinned.

"Just like their lord."

Námo shrugged.

"I do what I must. But it's not just mine. Vairë's are also efficient when asked to do something."

Manwë nodded.

"I know. You really think such a blatant display of Mairon's recently changed status will help people accept him?"

Námo shrugged.

"I do not know. I do, however, know it will stop this rumour in its tracks. Which is the reason I was going to suggest everyone chooses a number of their followers to help out, but you beat me to it. The more witnesses, the better. After this, no one will continue believing he's in disgrace or a prisoner. As for them accepting him…I fear that will take longer to achieve."

Manwë nodded in acceptance.

"Okay. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and let Lámárë know of my sudden desire to host a banquet in two days' time. And then I have to see about invitations."

Námo's lips quirked upwards.

"I would suggest asking Varda for help with that. We don't want a repeat of the rosewater incident."

Manwë's face turned an interesting shade of dark pink.

"On second thoughts, I will inform Varda of my desire after speaking to Lámárë and ask her to see to the invitations. What are you going to do?" He asked as Námo made to leave.

"I have a conspiracy to plot with my Maiar."

* * *

**I want to know what happened to Manwë that involved rosewater now.**


	20. Lord Námo's conspiracy

**Chapter 20: Lord Námo's conspiracy**

Upon returning to Mandos, Námo summoned all his Maiar to his study. And by all of them, he meant ALL of them. He didn't leave one who'd sworn to serve him out, no matter what area of Mandos they served in. Even those who were normally excused from such meetings because of the nature of their work were required to attend.

However, taking those who supervised the fëar away from their jobs wasn't a good idea without a failsafe being put in place. To that end, Námo exerted more of his power over them than he usually cared to do. As he sent all the fëar into a deep slumber, he reasoned this meeting wouldn't take long. They would all be awake and needing supervision (so as not to destroy the Halls of Waiting) in no time.

The Maiar who served him were fewer in number than those who served most of the other Valar. Even still, fitting into Námo's study was a squash with them all incarnated. Eventually, though, they managed to all find a position. Sitting on either Vairë's cushions, the plush carpet, or even each other, the Maiar talked quietly among themselves, speculating what it could be that Námo wanted to tell them.

Last to arrive were Mairon, Marilwë, and Tavaril. Námo noted with sadness the resigned look still gracing the copper-haired Maia's freckled face and the way his shoulders hunched. It also didn't escape his attention that Marilwë and Tavaril placed him between them when they sat down. The lord of Mandos hid a smile at seeing that.

His Maiar had always been very protective of their own.

Once they were all gathered in the study, the Vala spoke. Mindful of the few thousand fëar he was currently keeping in check by the force of his will alone, the lord of Mandos wasted no time getting to the point.

"My dear Children. I've summoned you all here to discuss an important matter, one that involves and affects us all. But, before I reveal what it is, I need your word you won't say anything of what happens in this room right now to anyone. You may discuss it amongst yourselves, but only within the confines of these Halls. And only when no others, including Vairë's Maiar, are present. Do I have your word on this matter?"

Every single Maiar in the room instantly nodded, bowing as one to their lord. Astarion spoke first.

"I swear to you, my lord, nothing you say in confidence will be heard of by anyone who you do not wish to hear of it. May Ilúvatar himself see and judge me if I be false to this oath."

The others all swore oaths along the same strain, including Mairon, who was among the first to repeat Astarion's words. When the last Maia had repeated the oath, Námo inclined his head to them. The faith and loyalty his Maiar exhibited towards him never ceased to both amaze and humble him. They loved him; had voluntarily chosen to pledge their service to his benefit. Looking around at his family (most of who had pledged themselves to him before Eä existed, though several had joined him later), the Doomsman smiled.

"Thank you, my Children. Your faith in me is humbling, and I will do everything in my power to never let you down. Now, to tell you the reason I've summoned you."

Everyone perked up as Námo continued.

"Troubling rumours have recently reached my ears concerning one of your brethren who dwells with us here in these Halls. Rumours that are untrue and harmful and need to be stopped."

Most of his Maiar had no idea what he meant. While a few nodded, having recently heard, many wore looks of confusion. Not everyone had siblings outside the Halls, or communicated with those who lived elsewhere. Námo had some in his service who preferred almost complete solitude, rarely even coming to festivals or celebrations.

One such, Elenfirië, now spoke.

"What rumours, my lord?"

Námo raised an eyebrow at Mairon, silently asking permission. He received a nod and turned back to Elenfirië. The Maia was regarding him with wide-eyed innocence, unable to fully comprehend what this was all about. Námo knew she would go back to happily playing with the child fëar as soon as this was over, forgetting all that had been said. Such was the nature of the damage her fëa had suffered in one of their first ever battles against their fallen brethren. Nevertheless, he still answered her question with patience and love.

"The rumours Mairon attacked someone in Lórien, and is imprisoned here as punishment."

There was a stir among the Maiar when they heard that. More than one looked over at where the small, copper-haired Maia was sitting between Marilwë and Tavaril. They all wore expression of either confusion, horror, or shock. Tindómon was the first to speak.

"But that hasn't happened! Mairon's not a prisoner here. Is he?"

Námo shook his head, giving Mairon a loving look.

"No, he's not. Nor has he done something wrong. While there was an attack, he wasn't the one who did it. Someone else attacked him and Marilwë."

There was a collective gasp from many of those gathered. Tindómon's brother, Yúcalion, looked up in alarm. Working as guards in the part of Mandos housing those elven fëar whom had committed great crimes in life (and had refused to repent and face judgement. Subsequently, they had to be kept locked up for the safety of others) meant he and his brother didn't have a lot of contact with others. Consequently, this was the first they'd heard about the attack.

"Who?"

Námo regarded him gravely.

"We're working on finding out. In the meantime, we need to show this rumour to be the lie it is. The best way to do that is to show Valinor that Mairon is not a prisoner here, nor is he in disgrace. Therefore, in two days' time, Lord Manwë will hold a special banquet in his mansion at Valmar. All the Valar will be invited, and each of us will choose one from among our people to bring along to sit at the high table with us. It will be a great honour for whoever is chosen."

Upon hearing that, several of the Maiar wore knowing looks, even as Námo turned to the latest addition to his family.

"Mairon. Would you do me the honour of attending the banquet with me and Lady Vairë?"

* * *

For a long moment, Mairon could do nothing but stare at his lord in shock. As he struggled to process what he'd just being told, he said the first thing that came into his mind.

"Me?"

Námo's lips twitched.

"You."

Mairon looked around uneasily at the rest of the Maiar with them.

"But-but…"

Marilwë stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. Waiting until he turned to look at her, the female half of Námo's chiefs spoke calmly.

"It's an ingenious idea, Mairon. Think about it. The rumour that's most rampant is that you're a prisoner here. What better way to prove you are anything but then by being Námo's guest of honour at a special banquet?"

Mairon swallowed.

"But, I'm the least of you. It isn't fair I should get this. You or Astarion should have this honour."

Astarion shook his head firmly.

"Our lord's reasoning is sound. This is an excellent, if somewhat blatant, way to show all these rumours are just that – rumours. As for being the least of us…some of us may hold more responsibility than others, but we're all equal otherwise. You're officially one of us now; that means what affects you, affects us all. None of us object to our lord's decision in the slightest. Do we?"

There was a loud chorus of 'no' to his question, and Astarion turned to Mairon with a smile.

"See?" He said, amber eyes twinkling with amusement. "Whatever you think is invalid. We have spoken; you're going to be our lord's guest of honour at the banquet. All in favour, say 'aye'."

There was immediately a chorus of very enthusiastic 'aye's'. Mairon, feeling overwhelmed, looked to his lord for reassurance. Moments later, he felt a wave of love sweep over him, calming his turbulent thoughts. Taking a few calming breaths, the copper-haired Maia looked up at Námo.

"It – it would be an honour to attend with you, my lord. Th-thank you."

Námo looked well pleased. Seconds later, another wave of love and approval swept over Mairon. The Maia savoured the feelings, the tension he'd held since entering the room bleeding from his shoulders. Námo gave him a gentle look, before he turning to his chiefs.

"Marilwë. Astarion. If you consent, I would like you to come as well. It has been decided, to accommodate everything at such short notice, each of us will chose some from among our followers to serve us at the banquet. I would like you two to have this privilege, if you consent."

The twins nodded as one. Astarion was the first to speak.

"Of course, my lord. It would be an honour to serve you in this way."

Námo inclined his head, before looking at the others.

"I've also volunteered as many of you as are needed, and willing, to help set up on the day and to help out on the night. This sudden desire of Lord Manwë's has put a lot of pressure on his people."

Several giggled at that, no one believing for one moment their own lord wasn't the instigator behind this entire idea. Fanyamírë sighed. Her dark blue eyes held amusement, and no small amount of exasperation.

"My sister's certainly going to be frantic when she hears about 'Lord Manwë's' sudden desire. My lord. With your permission, I seek leave to go help her. Lísnion is quite capable of looking after your kitchen in my absence."

Námo nodded his consent.

"I have already told Lord Manwë you'd help. Go with my blessing, my daughter. Use whomever from the kitchens you need to make this happen."

Taking that as the dismissal it was, the head cook of Mandos bowed to her lord, eyes twinkling, before fading away. Looking around at his other children, the Lord of Mandos nodded to them.

"That's all I wished to speak to you about at this point. You're dismissed. I've already released my hold on the fëar. They should be waking up anytime now."

The room suddenly seemed very empty, as all but three Maiar disappeared. Looking at those who were left, the lord of Mandos smiled at them.

"That went well."

Marilwë and Astarion both nodded. Mairon, however, looked worried. Námo silently dismissed his chiefs, speaking gently to him.

"What's wrong, my son?"

Mairon swallowed.

"I-I don't have anything suitable to wear for a banquet."

"Vairë will see to it you have something most suitable. Complete with my insignia on the left breast, to show everyone these rumours are naught but lies."

Mairon still looked unsure. His teeth worried his lower lip, and he twisted his fingers together in agitation. Squatting in front of him, Námo gently stilled his hands, wrapping one of his own around them.

"It will be okay, Mairon. I won't let anything happen to you. I know you don't like being put on display, as it were, but this is the easiest and quickest way to squash these rumours. Rumours that exist in the absence of anything else to believe. We don't want to have to tell people what actually happened in Lórien. But, if we show them you are one of my people, and not a prisoner, that will dispel the notion you're in disgrace."

Mairon looked at him.

"You really think so? When you and Tavaril told me about the rumour, I-I –"

Mairon's shoulders shook. Námo hugged his Maia to him, gently hushing him.

"It's okay, my little one. You are a loved and treasured member of my household; no rumour is ever going to change that. Nothing you may do will change that either. I swore an oath to protect you, Mairon. And I will. Do you trust me, my child?"

Mairon blinked at him in confusion.

"Of course. You're the only one I've _ever_ trusted."

Námo placed a loving kiss on his brow.

"Then let go of your worry and fear over this. All will be well in the end, and I won't let you walk the path to get there alone."

Mairon melted into his lord's embrace, losing himself in the love and care Námo radiated. The Vala allowed it for a time, until a mental call from Vairë's workshop demanded his attention.

Námo smiled at the top of Mairon's head as the Maia looked around in bewilderment. Vairë had not bothered to be quiet in her summons.

"What was that?"

"Vairë calling me. Let's go see what she wants. We can see about making you formal robes while we're there."

* * *

_Two days later; Námo and Vairë's mansion in Valmar._

Mairon stared into the mirror with shock, not recognising the reflection staring back at him.

The Maia in the mirror had copper hair and dull golden eyes like he did (though they did manage to have a sparkle in them), but that was where the resemblance ended. This Maia looked happy and healthy. His hair was well brushed, shiny, and held back from his face by two elven style side-braids. He was wearing a beautifully made floor-length burgundy robe of quality wool. The robe was bordered with metallic gold embroidery, while a matching gold sash was wrapped around his waist. The elegant high collar of the robe completely hid his scared throat, while Námo's insignia embroidered onto the left breast with metallic gold thread proudly proclaimed his allegiance.

The gold necklace Lord Aulë had made to keep his dark powers contained sat just below his collarbone, over the top of the robe. It blended in so seamlessly with his attire, it could've been mistaken for any old piece of jewellery. Though the craftsmanship that had gone into making it was obvious on closer inspection. Anyone vaguely knowledgeable on the subject would be able to recognise the master workmanship of Lord Aulë.

He looked like he belonged here, in Valinor, Mairon realised with shock. Indeed, he wouldn't have looked out of place in even Lord Manwë's household, wearing clothing this fine. As for his physical appearance…Mairon felt a tangle of emotions as he carefully examined his face.

The last time he'd seen his reflection, he'd been on Middle Earth. He'd just fled Eönwë's camp and had sought refuge in a small thicket of trees hugging the base of a cliff. There'd been a small spring there and, after drinking from it, the Maia had inadvertently caught sight of his reflection.

The fair hue he'd worn in front of the Herald had faded as soon as he'd been far enough away from the camp. He'd been too exhausted and sick with terror and despair to maintain it for any length of time. He'd automatically reverted to the incarnate form he'd worn the most during his thraldom, as soon as he'd felt safe enough to do so.

He'd looked terrible. That was the only way to describe the haggard, filthy creature with sunken cheeks and haunted eyes who'd stared back at him. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away, so had stared at his reflection for hours. Or possibly days. He'd quickly lost track of any sense of time.

It was there, in this state, that Lord Oromë had found him.

His memories of the events after that were hazy and unfocussed. Nothing had been able to fully penetrate the haze of terror, exhaustion, and pain. He dimly remembered facing the Valar in the Máhanaxar and resigning himself to the fact his life was over. But, he didn't remember exactly what had gone down then. The next clear memory he had was of waking up in Mandos, to be confronted with the Doomsman of Arda in his full glory. He remembered _that_ with startling clarity. As he did the conversation that had followed.

"Admiring Vairë's handiwork, little one?"

Námo's gentle voice broke through his thoughts. Eyes flickering to look at his lord, the Maia frowned.

"Yes and no. It's a beautiful gown, but I – look different to how I remember looking."

Námo came to stand next to him, looking very fine in his own dark blue robes.

"Different in a good or bad way?"

Mairon couldn't tear his eyes away from his reflection.

"Good…I think. I – I look happy. And like I belong. I always thought I stood out from others in some way, but…I wouldn't look out of place even among Lord Manwë's people right now."

Námo placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No, you would not. And you do me proud for that reason. Now, if you're ready, it is time to go. Vairë and Eärwá are waiting."

Taking one last lingering look at his reflection, Mairon turned away to follow his lord.

* * *

**Plot Bunnies just hijacked their own plot. How is that even possible?**


	21. Rumours Arrested

**Here we get to see some of the ramifications from the banquet, all of which take place the day after. The actual banquet itself isn't written as it doesn't really do anything for the story. The aftermath is where things happen.**

* * *

**Chapter 21: Rumours Arrested**

Olórin and Mairon sat side by side on one of the benches in the inner garden of Mandos. Mairon was filling his brother in on what had happened lately. Olórin fumed when he heard of the rumour that said Mairon was a prisoner in Mandos.

"Who has the nerve to say things like that?"

Mairon shrugged.

"Someone who doesn't care for the authority of the Valar obviously. And someone who's either very stupid or very confident. Possibly both. Not that it really matters now. After last night, I don't think anyone will take much notice of them or their lies. My sitting at the high table with my lord and the other Valar made a pretty blatant statement."

Olórin nodded in agreement.

"I'd say it did. Everyone else brought their chiefs along. Though Lord Manwë saw fit to give me the honour, seeing as Eönwë is still on Middle Earth. But then, Lord Námo walked in with you by his side. Marilwë and Astarion serving the both of you only added to Lord Námo's message. It was a _very_ blatant statement that you're now a part of his household, and thus in his service and under his protection."

Mairon nodded.

"That was the plan."

Olórin shook his head in bemusement. His initial anger at hearing about the rumour had since dissipated. Kind- of. He still felt the urge to throttle whoever had thought to spread those rumours about his little brother, should he ever find out who they were. No one should ever have started them – not after everything Mairon had had to suffer. Valinor was supposed to be safe for everyone living there.

"I hope it works." He said softly.

"It has."

Mairon looked up at the Maia who'd suddenly appeared with some surprise.

"In what way?"

Nurulírë smiled at him, before nodding a greeting to Olórin.

"I just went and visited with my brother. Word about last night, and what it means, is spreading like wildfire. There's much speculation about how you came to serve the lord of Mandos. You seem to have traded one rumour for another entire set of them. Even so, everyone agrees whoever spread that first rumour was very poorly informed."

Mairon raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I can't imagine that'll please whoever started the rumour much. Seeing the point of that rumour was obviously to discredit me and turn others against me. Last night rather defeated that entire purpose."

"They'll probably just find another way to try to discredit you, if they're that desperate. But, no one I spoke to believes the initial rumour anymore, or any of the variants of it. I imagine there'll be some wild theories developing soon as to how it all happened. Never let it be said Tulkas' and Nessa's folk lack imagination."

The two brothers frowned at hearing that. However, before they could say anything, a deep voice spoke.

"What sort of theories, Nurulírë?"

Olórin jumped at the voice, though Mairon and Nurulírë were both unfazed by the sudden appearance of Námo. Olórin swiftly gave the lord of Mandos his obeisance, as was proper to do to a Vala whom one didn't serve. As Námo was Mairon and Nurulírë's lord, they just smiled at him in greeting, which he returned with a nod. That done, Nurulírë turned to his lord.

"Theories as to how Mairon ended up serving you, my lord. Last night's statement was received and understood."

Námo's voice held deep satisfaction.

"I like the sound of that. Why don't we go to my study, so you can tell me exactly what you heard? It may prove beneficial in figuring out who's behind all this so we can stop them."

Nurulírë nodded his consent, and the pair disappeared. Olórin looked at Mairon with a frown.

"But the rumour has been squashed. Won't that be enough to stop them?"

Mairon shook his head, his countenance dark.

"No, Olórin. It will not. Because the rumour was the least of our problems – simply a fruit of it. Think about it. Why do you think I suddenly ended up back here, when I was supposed to spend a couple of weeks in Lórien?"

Olórin blinked.

"I – hadn't given it any thought."

Mairon sighed. His brother could be more than dense at times.

"Of course you hadn't. Olórin. If I tell you what happened, will you promise not to turn murderous on me?"

His brother gave him a worried look.

"I don't like the sound of this. But yes, I promise not to go murderous. Or at least, to try and control any murderous urges that might overtake me."

Mairon smiled grimly.

"Very well. The real reason I ended up back here, serving Lord Námo, is because I was attacked and hurt while in Lórien."

Olórin's eyes widened in alarm, which quickly turned to anger as Mairon explained what had happened. By the time the younger Maia finished the story, the silver-haired Maia was livid. Mairon gave his brother a wry look as he finished speaking.

"Remember 'lórin, you promised not to go murderous."

Manwë's Maia stared at his brother.

"Not go murder- How can you be so _calm_ about all this?"

Mairon shrugged indifferently.

"What's the point in getting worked up? It won't fix anything and will only give whoever started the rumour power. The Valar will find those responsible and deal with them. Eventually. In the meantime, I'm safe enough here."

"Lórien is supposed to be safe."

Mairon sighed. He suddenly felt very tired. Resting his head on his brother's shoulder, the Maia closed his eyes.

"I know. Lord Irmo is investigating what happened to compromise that. But, the very fact whoever did this was willing to go so far in their disregard for the Valar is proof that whoever is behind it won't stop. They will strike again."

Olórin automatically put an arm around his brother, managing to arrange them so Mairon's head was in his lap. He stroked the bright copper hair, digging his nails lightly into Mairon's scalp in the way he knew his little brother loved. However, he said nothing, being too deep in thought. Not minding the silence, Mairon drifted into sleep, suddenly worn out. Last night had taken more energy than he'd realised.

Looking down at his little brother's sleeping features, Olórin thought furiously.

He was livid anyone thought they could do this to his little brother and _get away with it_. Mairon might have made him promise not to go murderous, but he'd said nothing about tracking down those responsible. Or showing them the error of their ways in methods that didn't involve killing them.

Olórin wanted answers. Problem was, he had no idea where to start looking for them.

* * *

"Olórin knows Mairon was attacked."

Varda looked up at her husband's sudden proclamation.

"How did he take it?"

Manwë frowned.

"Not terribly well. He's making plans to find and punish those responsible even as we speak."

Now it was Varda's turn to frown.

"He doesn't trust us to get to the bottom of this?"

Manwë shook his head.

"It's not that simple, my dear. Olórin has a heart of gold, and is probably the most even tempered of all who serve me. However, he's also fiercely protective of those he cares about. Right now, his little brother is at the top of that list. While I will keep an eye on Olórin, to stop or even hinder him in his quest is not a wise idea. He will be instrumental in revealing to us who's behind this; though, the path there won't be easy for anyone."

While he'd been talking, Varda had come over and sat down next to him. Taking one of his hands, the Queen of the Valar looked at him in concern.

"What have you seen, my love?"

Manwë's blue eyes were distant.

"There are greater forces at play here then even we realise. What happened in Lórien is about more than just Mairon. I have no idea how it all fits together, or how it will end. What I do know, is everything is going according to _Atar's_ plan, and so we must be patient. He will reveal all in time."

Varda squeezed his hand.

"Of course he will. That's a given, my love."

Manwë nodded, his eyes refocussing as he gave his wife a small smile. It was clear he was very distracted by whatever he'd just seen.

"I know he will. Yet, I can't help being concerned about what may happen in the meantime. A storm is coming, Varda. One I fear we are not ready to meet."

* * *

Unbeknown to any of the Valar, down in the Gardens of Lórien, Námo was at that moment echoing Manwë's words to his brother. Irmo agreed with him.

"Yes, one is coming. I can feel the metaphoric storm clouds gathering on the horizon as we speak."

Námo said nothing, taking a sip from his tea cup, sighing in appreciation of the fruity blend. Looking across at his brother, who was staring off into the distance, the Doomsman frowned.

"What's wrong, little brother?"

Irmo blinked, coming back to himself at Námo's words. Giving him a rueful smile, Irmo picked up his own cup of tea.

"I was just thinking of how we're going to deal with the damage when the storm does break. But, I suppose we'll just have to deal with it when it comes. Without knowing exactly what is coming, it's difficult to prepare to weather it. Also, it's too fine an afternoon to waste worrying about things that may never happen."

Námo said nothing in reply, continuing to enjoy his cup of tea. The Fëanturi were taking afternoon tea together, talking about all that had happened since last night. Or at least, they had been. Then Námo had gone all Doom-and-Gloom, as Irmo put it, turning the conversation down a dourer road.

Shaking himself out of his darker thoughts, Námo looked across at his brother thoughtfully.

"What are the Maiar of Lórien saying about last night's events?"

Irmo, who was nibbling on a strawberry tart, frowned in thought.

"There hasn't been a lot of talk. At least, not a lot that I'm aware of. Though that might have something to do with the fact only four of ours were there, and we were very selective with who we chose to serve us. Lanyamaur and Írimawen were a forgone conclusion, but Estë and I spent ages deliberating over who to bring along to serve us. It was a surprisingly difficult decision. It would have been nicer to have had more time."

Námo looked vaguely amused at his brother's put-upon expression.

"Manwë felt it prudent to show those rumours to be false sooner rather than later."

Irmo rolled his silver eyes, pouring more tea into his almost empty cup.

"After what happened, no one's going to believe it was Manwë's idea, my dear brother. You destroyed that notion when you turned up with Mairon as your guest of honour. Re-fill?"

Námo looked smug, even as he nodded his thanks, picking up his now full cup.

"No one can prove it either way. And it worked. Nurulírë was telling me just this morning that Tulkas' and Nessa's Maiar at least were discussing what it could all mean. What the long-term outcomes will be, I cannot say. But, he told me no one seems to believe that rumour anymore, which was the goal."

Irmo nodded thoughtfully as he pushed the tray of tarts towards his brother. So far, Námo had done nothing but sip his tea, ignoring the spread before him. Irmo decided that would never do.

"Do eat something, brother. Those strawberry tarts are particularly good."

Carefully putting down his tea-cup, Námo hesitantly took a tart. Eyeing it off suspiciously, the Doomsman looked at his brother.

"It hasn't got walnuts in it this time, has it? I don't like walnuts."

Irmo smiled, shaking his head.

"No, I made sure they were walnut free. All nut free, actually. These tarts are pure strawberry in flavour. I promise. Try it."

Deciding his brother was telling the truth (whatever his perceived faults, Irmo didn't lie), Námo bit into the tart. His eyebrows went up as the sweet and fruity flavour exploded on his tongue. They _were _very good. Irmo grinned as seeing his reaction.

"Melian is a good cook."

Námo's countenance darkened at that. Irmo briefly wondered what he'd said wrong, but then Námo was putting down his tart, looking out at nothing in particular.

"That's another situation I feel must be addressed soon."

Irmo frowned, momentarily confused.

"In what way?"

Námo's gaze focussed on him.

"We need to put her and Mairon together and have them work out how they feel over the whole Lúthien and Tol-in-Gaurhoth debacle. Mairon has a lot of deep seated trauma from Huan's actions and Lúthien's threats. I feel Melian's feelings over it are just as complex. We've been taking it slow with them both, allowing them plenty of time to heal from their ordeals on Middle Earth. But, I feel the time is right now for this to happen. And the sooner the better. Before something else comes up."

Irmo frowned pensively, thinking that over while Námo finished his tart. While the Doomsman wasn't a great fan of sweet things, it was too good not to eat, seeing he had it on his plate.

"Do you want me to talk to Melian, and you can talk to Mairon? If this storm is indeed coming…"

Námo nodded.

"I want to give Mairon some time to recover from last night, so will late tomorrow afternoon work for you? If we time it right, it'll still be light but Anar won't be too bright. Though Mairon is doing okay with accepting sunlight, I know it still frightens him if he's in it for any length of time." Námo sighed. "Though I think it is mostly the way it illuminates everything that has Mairon nervous now. The actual glare does not seem to worry him much anymore."

Irmo agreed.

"That would make sense. Especially since he's seen Arien. Still, there's no need to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he is going to be." Irmo sighed, his usual bright and cheerful aura dimming. "Tomorrow evening works for me. It will give me time to get things ready. This meeting is not going to be easy for either of them, but I feel Mairon will suffer more. Considering what we saw in his memories at the Trial..."

Námo nodded, expression grave.

"Yes. But it is time he faces those things. And time we address what Lúthien did. I have a few questions of my own I need answers to. I feel Melian can give them to me."

Irmo rolled his eyes at his brother's tone.

"Play nice, old Doomy-and-Gloomy. No need to pull a Wrath of Mandos on anyone. Melian hasn't done anything wrong. I think we'll find the problem is the fact she _didn't do anything_."

Námo's countenance drooped at Irmo's disapproving look.

"Pity. I was looking forward to pulling one. I don't get to go all Wrath of Mandos very often."

Irmo grinned, finishing up his afternoon tea with another tart.

"For which I am thankful. We don't want half the population of Aman to be scared into your Halls now do we? I can't image Marilwë or Astarion will take very kindly to that. Think of all the paperwork!"

Námo smirked.

"_I_ wouldn't take very kindly to that. Very well. I will refrain from pulling a Wrath of Mandos. I reserve the right to pull the Doomsman's Glare if I feel it necessary, however."

Irmo smirked back.

"I wouldn't dream of depriving you of that privilege, brother. Just try not to make anyone faint this time."

Námo's smirk grew.

"No promises."

* * *

The orange-eyed Maia was livid.

"How could this happen? I had everything planned out so well! And then the Valar had to go and get involved! How did they learn about it so fast? It had to have been less than three days before they heard the rumour. Who could have told them? I was very careful to spread it only among those I knew would believe it, and not say a word to their lords or ladies about its source!"

His sister shrugged indifferently.

"They could have found out any number of ways. They're smart. Which is why I'm refusing to be directly involved in your little Revenge Plot from here on out. I won't give you away; he was my brother as well, but this plan of yours is not going to end well. Especially getting those younger ones involved. Fear only works to control people for so long. You are courting disaster, my brother."

The Maia scowled at her.

"How else can I avenge my twin brother? _Our_ brother? Besides, I don't care what happens to me. Just so long as I can take that little traitor down as well."

"That's not going to happen easily. Especially now he serves Lord Mandos. Anything you do to harm him will invite the Wrath of Mandos to your door."

Her brother's eyes blazed.

"I've already said I don't care what happens to me. So long as_ he_ is out of the picture. It was so infuriating last night, Roimewen! To see him sitting up at the high table next to the Valar, while I had to work serving them like any good servant…it was all I could do not to leap up and throttle him right then and there."

Roimewen raised an eyebrow.

"At least you still have some measure of self-control."

Her brother glared.

"It was only through planning out my next move that I was able to pretend nothing was wrong. And, as my plan to turn the other Maiar against him is now shot, I have decided the time for subtlety has ended. Slowly undermining his position here by attacking from the shadows will not work. Not after last night. No. I need to take him down hard, once and for all. And it needs to happen soon."


	22. Melian…and Memories

**Chapter 22: Melian…and Memories**

Melian looked at Lord Irmo with an unreadable expression.

"I told you I will hear what Mairon has to say. And I promise I will withhold judgement until he has finished. I – I can't promise you any more than that, my lord."

Irmo nodded.

"Thank you, my daughter. I'll ensure you are not disturbed. However, if either of you need me or Námo" this was addressed to Mairon "just call. We will come straight away."

With that, the Lord of Lórien faded away. Mairon and Melian were left looking at each other, neither one sure what to say. Mairon broke the silence.

"Melian. I'm – I'm very sorry. For everything."

The female Maia's face was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed her pain.

"Why? Why did you do it? I don't want an apology; it's meaningless given all that has happened since. What I want to know is why."

Mairon looked at his feet, forcing himself not to fidget.

"Did Elerrína not tell you?"

Melian nodded.

"She did. You were afraid of the consequences that would befall you otherwise. However, I want to hear what you told her first hand." Melian's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Besides, something tells me you didn't even tell her half of the story. I want the full thing. Lúthien _is_ my daughter, though she is now lost to me."

Marion swallowed. What Melian requested was fair, and would be a start in making amends for his actions.

"It was nothing personal and had nothing to do with her being your daughter. It – it was all to do with me trying to avoid being hurt."

Melian waited for him to go on. After a brief pause, Mairon continued talking, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Melkor…wasn't nice. When he came back to Middle Earth after his time here, his temper only worsened. And, for some reason, I was his favourite stress relief toy."

Melian paled, even as Mairon continued. His voice was strong, if barely above a whisper.

"He delighted in beating and humiliating me for the slightest infraction, whether real or imaginary." Mairon's haunted golden eyes rose to meet Melian's deep blue ones. "More often than not, I didn't even know the reason I was being punished."

"How – how does this relate to my daughter?"

Mairon sighed heavily, returning his gaze to a point on the ground near his feet.

"She just happened to turn up at a time when I was desperately trying to figure out how to steer_ His_ displeasure and anger away from me. The Elvenking Finrod had just died on my watch. Accidently mind you; I did not plan for him to die. But it happened, and I knew my Master wouldn't be happy about it."

Melian was still rather pale, her eyes fixed on Mairon's bowed head.

"What happened?"

Mairon sighed.

"_She_ happened. And Huan. Your daughter was one scary and determined lady."

Melian swallowed.

"I know she was."

Mairon did not seem to hear her. Lost in his memories, he spoke in a monotone voice, free of emotion. Melian recognised it as the voice of someone who'd experienced an event so painful, they'd disassociated any emotions from that memory.

"Lúthien…you can be proud of her. She did both the Ainur and the Elder proud that day with her courage and determination. Unlike me."

Melian wisely said nothing. After a beat, Mairon continued.

"In my desperation to avoid punishment, her turning up on my doorstep seemed like divine intervention. Which it was; just not in the way I thought at the time. Morgoth hated and feared you almost more than he did the Valar. In a moment of sheer desperation, I thought if I could deliver Lúthien up to him…"

Mairon's voice was so soft, even an elf would not have heard him.

"I would be able to spare myself from punishment for the other events. It – didn't go the way I'd hoped."

Melian's voice was just as soft.

"I want to hear about what happened on the bridge from your perspective."

Mairon shuddered, closing his eyes as _that_ memory resurfaced. He suddenly felt light headed, the very world seeming to tilt alarmingly to one side. He dimly registered a panicked shout, but it seemed to come from the other end of a long tunnel. He was trapped in a nothingness, which, while it was painfully familiar, still terrified him. He couldn't get out of it, nothing he did garnered any response. The Maia began to panic, unable to even breath through the stifling nothingness.

Slowly, the nothingness dissolved into a familiar scene.

A scene from his worst nightmares.

_Sauron lay on his back, eyes wide with pure terror. Huan, the fabled hound of Valinor, loomed over him; teeth sunk firmly into the Maia's throat. Even shifting forms hadn't caused the hound's grip to loosen. Despite the Command telling him to get away, Sauron was terrified that, if he moved too much more, the wounds in his throat would prove fatal for this form. The Maia could already feel the blood pouring out, pooling on the ground beneath his head. _

_The maiden Lúthien looked down at him dispassionately. She stood there proudly, not a trace of indecision or hesitation in her being. Then she spoke, and the defeated Maia had no doubt she meant every word she said. _

"_Hear me, Sauron, servant of the Evil One. By rights, for what thou have done, thou shalt be stripped of thou raiment of flesh, and your ghost be sent quaking back to Morgoth. There, everlastingly, thy naked self shall endure the torment of his scorn, pierced by his eyes. Unless, thou yield to me mastery of thy tower this shalt be thy fate."_

_For a brief moment, the look in her eyes reminded Sauron of his Master when he thought his favourite slave was thinking about disagreeing with him. The Maia instantly cowered, though Huan's teeth in his throat ensured he couldn't go far._

"_I yield! I YIELD! It's yours!"_

_Cold grey eyes met terrified golden ones as Lúthien continued looking at him dispassionately. For a moment, time stood still, and Sauron forgot to breath. _

_Then, the elleth cocked her head to the side before nodding to Huan. The hound instantly released his hold on Sauron, stepping back as he did so. Immediately shifting into the form of a vampire bat, Sauron fled. _

_Blood dripped from his shredded throat and fell upon the trees, even as the moon seemed to darken from his passing. _

* * *

Námo looked up from the shaking Maia in his arms to focus on his brother and Melian.

"What happened?"

Melian was close to tears herself; Irmo hugged her reassuringly, whispering in her ear. Melian shook her head to whatever he said. Irmo then looked at his brother and the shaking Maia in his embrace.

"Melian asked Mairon about what occurred on the bridge at Tol-in-Gaurhoth."

Melian looked at her lord in surprise, momentarily stunned, before realising Irmo had been monitoring their whole conversation in some capacity. Námo was silent for what could have been seconds or hours, time having lost its meaning.

"I see."

The Fëanturi exchanged a knowing look. Looking between them in confusion, Melian spoke hesitantly to Irmo.

"My lord, what happened?"

Irmo looked grim, yet his voice was gentle.

"Something that is long overdue. Brother. Should I call Nienna?"

"Yes. That may be a good idea."

Seconds later, the Valië of pity and mercy materialised next to the Doomsman.

"What's happened?"

Námo looked at her.

"Tol-in-Gaurhoth and Lúthien."

Understanding crossed the Valië's features as she took in the scene.

"Ah. What do you want me to do?"

Námo sent a wave of calm to Mairon, hoping his presence would be enough to bring the Maia out of his flashback, even as he spoke with his brother and sister via ósanwe.

*First, I need to get Mairon to come back to himself. Then, we need to talk about it and address his concerns over what Lúthien threatened to do to him.*

Irmo nodded in agreement.

*I think Melian needs to hear it all as well. Like I said yesterday, it's time for her to confront her emotions over this. Just as much as it's time for Mairon to do so.*

Námo was pensive.

*I think that's a good idea. I have long questioned why Lúthien did some of the things she did, and suspect Melian may have the answers. I don't know if Mairon will appreciate having an audience to one of his greatest fears, however.*

Irmo's reply was thoughtful.

*I hope he will consent to her staying. I think it's time we had some answers to questions I've also wondered about since even before Lúthien showed up in Mandos.*

Nienna nodded.

*I agree with you both about everything. This is something that needs to be addressed with them both present. So far, we've left Melian alone to heal. But, it's past time she faces up to what happened while she was on Middle Earth. Her actions…may have had a further reaching impact then what she realises.*

Neither brother argued with that. Irmo, sensing Melian wanted to ask them what was happening, but was too scared about disturbing them when they were obviously having a conversation, looked at her.

"Yes, Melian?"

The Maia looked very worried.

"What is happening? Why are you all here? What's wrong with Mairon?"

Námo held up a hand to forestall her.

"All will be answered in time. First, we must convince Mairon to return to us."

*Nienna. Lend me some strength. As I will not enter his head, I must trust my presence will be enough to coax him back. I don't think he's so out of it that I won't be able to call him back.*

Nienna complied without hesitation, and Námo was relieved when it wasn't too long before Mairon started stirring. A shudder escaped him as he gulped in a lungful of air. Námo gently began rubbing his back to keep him grounded. It wasn't long before the Maia's eyes cleared. Blinking around him in confusion for a moment, he then looked up at Námo.

"My lord?"

"Yes Mairon. I'm here."

Mairon looked at Námo with such an expression of pain and hopelessness that the Vala felt a pang in his heart.

"She – she was going to t-take away my fana and make me a d-disembodied spirit!"

Mairon buried his head in Námo's chest as his shoulders began shaking anew. Melian blinked in confusion at his words, not understanding what Mairon was talking about.

The three Valar didn't have that problem. This memory was just one of the ones they had seen when Mairon had faced them in the Máhanaxar.

Nienna leant over and stroked Mairon's hair.

"But she didn't. You did the right thing, Mairon, in yielding to her. Even though it cost you dearly."

Námo nodded in agreement.

"You did. I am proud of you for that reason, Mai. You were placed in a no-win situation and did the right thing."

The Maia in his arms hiccupped.

"I-I did?"

Námo hugged him reassuringly, placing a gentle kiss on his brow.

"Yes." He said simply.

Mairon steadied at his lord's confirmation.

"Why – why did she threaten to do that? I get that she was mad at me, but to threaten to kill me like that…the only person who even hurt me more was _Him_."

In answer, Námo looked up and addressed Melian. While his voice was gentle, there was an undercurrent of steel in it that demanded attention and respect.

"Did you raise your daughter as an elf or an Ainu?"

Melian looked surprised, thinking for a minute. Finally, she realised what Námo meant, and swallowed.

"Mostly as an elf. I did teach her about her Maiarin heritage, but it wasn't much."

Irmo nodded thoughtfully.

"I suspected as much when I heard what happened. What did you teach her about our laws and customs?"

Melian reddened when she realised what her lord was getting at.

"Hardly anything. There – there seemed no point. I taught her what she needed to know to control her powers, but beyond that…"

Melian trailed off, her eyes fixed on the ground. The three Valar exchanged glances before Námo looked back down at Mairon.

"What Lúthien did was wrong. She went against all the rules of the Ainur when she threatened you like that, Mairon. While many of us have the power to do it, threatening violence to one's person, whether it be fëa or fana, is wrong. No matter what the circumstances are."

Melian looked up at hearing that. She was very upset as she realised what she had inadvertently had a hand in causing.

"I didn't intend…"

Irmo placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

"We know you didn't, my dear. However, the fact remains that Lúthien, for all that she was raised among elves as one of them, was half-Ainu. Her powers run strong. And, unfortunately, she wasn't fully taught what were and weren't acceptable ways to use them."

Námo nodded in agreement.

"Which helps explain why she was so dead set on not accepting her love for Beren wasn't enough to stop him from dying when she showed up in Mandos." Námo switched to ósanwe to commune with his siblings. *Her powers…even I was not unaffected. That's part of the reason I was willing to do what I did with her and Beren. She was far too dangerous to allow loose with that sort of determination in her heart.*

Both Irmo and Nienna agreed.

*I think there is a reason _Atar_ has discouraged the rest of us from doing what Melian did and coupling with the Children.* Nienna opinionated. *Though, I'm still not entirely sure why he allowed her to marry Elwë to begin with.*

Námo shrugged.

*Even Manwë does not understand _Atar's_ full plans for Eä. I'm sure he had his reasons. Reasons that will become apparent in time.*

Sensing Melian wanted to ask him a question, Námo looked at her.

"What is it, Melian?"

The Maia swallowed.

"What did Lúthien threaten to do to Mairon, and why did it scare him so much?"

Námo looked at his Maia.

"Mairon, are you up to explaining to Melian what happened, and why it terrified you the way it did?"

Mairon looked at his lord, as he nervously swallowed.

"How much do I tell?"

Námo quickly realised what Mairon meant. Lowering his voice so only his Maia could hear him, the Doomsman spoke gently.

"As much as you're comfortable revealing. You don't have to say what He did to you if you don't want to. But, telling Melian being in a spiritual form scares you will help her understand the events better."

Mairon nodded in understanding, before looking across at the other Maia.

"Melian. Lúthien threatened to take away my fana by having Huan kill me and send me back to the one who'd enslaved me as a disembodied spirit. I – for reasons, I would always cloth myself in a fana, never going unclad. It has to do with what Morgoth did to me. Lúthien…threatened me with my worst nightmare."

Melian listened in rapt attention, the horrified look on her face growing the more Mairon talked. When he stopped and looked away, Melian licked her lips while she processed her thoughts.

"What did He do?"

Mairon's expression shut down.

"I don't talk about it. Just know he wasn't nice, and held me in service to him against my will for thousands of years."

Melian looked at the Valar for confirmation for what she was hearing. Their grave expressions told her what Mairon said was true. Melian blinked, not knowing how to respond to this new knowledge.

Eventually, she asked a question.

"You said before that you are sorry for everything. Does that include what you did, or are you just sorry about what happened – that you were defeated? From what I understand, you did a lot of harm before she arrived on the scene."

Mairon nodded.

"I did. And I'm sorrier for it all than you can know. I'm glad Beren came out of it alive and found happiness with her." Mairon sighed dejectedly. "I never intended to hurt anyone. Morgoth had other ideas. And made sure I was all but powerless to resist his will."

Fresh tears leaked out of Nienna's eyes, even as Námo tightened his hold on his child.

"We will free you, Mairon. And you need not fear the memories of the past any longer. They cannot hurt you now. And I can promise you'll never be a bodiless spirit in the Void. Only Eru has the right to do that to anyone, and he will not. And, if someone does ever try it," Námo's expression changed slightly to something much darker. "They'll have me to deal with. And I don't take kindly to someone hurting, or even trying to hurt, one of my own."

Melian shrunk away from the Lord of Mandos with a sudden fear, even as she noted Mairon didn't seem to be affected. In fact, he had a small smile on his face.

"You really mean it, my lord?"

Námo looked down at him with an expression of pure love that scared Melian almost more than the Doomsman's dark demeanour had.

"I mean every word. He will not win, Mai. Not now. Not ever. I won't allow that to happen."

Nienna, who'd been stroking Mairon's hair all this time, nodded in agreement.

"My brother speaks truly. No one will ever hurt you like that again. We won't let them. It is time you started letting go of the past and focussing on the future. Trusting us to look after you. That's what we are here for."

Mairon looked at the Valië.

"I'm not sure I can do that. At least, not yet."

Nienna smiled at him through her tears.

"I will help you. We all will. Won't we?"

The Valië addressed her brothers, both of whom nodded. It was Irmo who spoke.

"Absolutely." The Vala of Dreams and Visions looked down at the Maia sitting next to him. "I think Melian should help as well."

The female Maia looked stunned.

"Me? What can I do? I haven't even forgiven him for what he did! And I don't know if I'll ever be able to." Melian looked at Mairon, who had buried his face in Námo's chest at some point while she'd been talking. "It's…a lot to process and take in. And, no matter the circumstances, Lúthien _was_ my daughter. And Mairon did intend to give her to Morgoth. He's admitted as much."

Irmo sighed.

"Yes, but you still don't know the full circumstances surrounding that decision, my dear. One way or another, you're going to have to come to terms with all that happened. And, I hope eventually you'll be able to forgive Mairon and move on." Irmo sighed. "Until that happens, you won't be able to fully heal."

Melian looked down.

"I know."

The Maia said no more. Irmo kept his arm around her as he looked at his brother, sister, and Mairon.

"Well, this has been a productive little chat." The Vala looked at Mairon kindly. "Mairon, how are you feeling?"

The copper-haired Maia sighed.

"Tired, but better than I did before. My lord, can we please go home?"

* * *

**The flashback is the same scene from the Silmarillion as it is described fleshed out. Though Lúthien's words to Sauron are slightly edited to fit with the flow of the story better, and provide a clearer explanation, I have kept the language form she uses intact.**


	23. Urunírë's folly

**Still dealing with the fallout from the Banquet. Chronologically, the first part of this chapter takes place before the last chapter, and the rest of it takes place the day after.**

* * *

**Chapter 23: Urunírë's folly**

Aulë regarded his Chief Maia with concern.

"What's wrong, my child? I haven't seen you look this upset since – well, there's no need to bring that up again. Just tell me, Son. What has you so down and depressed?"

Urunírë made an unintelligible sound, not lifting his head from his hands. Finally, he moved his hands enough to speak.

"Have a guess. I feel you'll only need one."

Aulë rolled his eyes.

"It would be quicker and less painful if you simply told me the problem."

Urunírë sighed, finally raising his head to look at his lord.

"It's Mairon."

Aulë's expression gave nothing away.

"What about him?"

Urunírë swallowed.

"I – I don't know what to do or say to him. Not that that's changed much. I've _never_ known how to behave around him."

Aulë said nothing. After a beat, Urunírë continued.

"Even before we left the Timeless Halls, I always felt inadequate and insignificant around him. Those feelings grew worse after we came to Eä and both entered your service. Mairon always outshone everyone in all matters of smithing; his skill was second only to yours. Many of us envied him because of his prowess. He seemed so perfect all the time that I became jealous – very jealous. Then, when the Valar decided to choose one from among their followers to be their chief…"

Urunírë looked at his lord, who was listening patiently. There was no condemnation or judgement in his eyes, only love. Mustering up his courage, the Maia took a deep breath and continued talking.

"We were all stunned – none more-so than I – when you chose me, not Mairon, to lead your Maiar. We all thought he would have been the obvious choice. However, I'm ashamed to admit my amazement quickly turned to selfish pride at the knowledge that I was now more important, and had more power, than he did. I—" the Maia swallowed deeply, "I- I'm ashamed to admit I abused that power, my lord."

Aulë frowned. While his voice was gentle, there was a thread of steel in it when he spoke.

"Why do you say that, Urunírë?"

The Maia dropped his gaze again.

"I – took advantage of my position to ignored both Mairon and his work. I was so jealous of him that I-I even went so far as to openly praise the work of some of the others and ignore his. Even when he'd bring me work to inspect, I was curt. At the time, I told myself I was doing my duty as your chief. That Mairon needed to be taken down a few pegs, and it was up to me to do so."

Urunírë swallowed, risking a glance up at his lord. Aulë's expression was set-in-stone, his eyes impassive. His voice, when he spoke, also held no hint of his feelings.

"These things happened Ages ago even by Valarin standards of time. Why are you only just telling me this now?"

Urunírë took a shuddering breath.

"After he left, I didn't give much thought to my behaviour towards him. Then, he suddenly came back. It hit hard when you brought him to the forges the first time a few weeks ago. And everything was only reinforced at the banquet last night. Seeing what he's like now..." He frowned. "That quiet and withdrawn creature is nothing like the proud and arrogant Maia I remember from before."

Urunírë's eyes were now trained on the floor. He refused to look up, and an uncomfortable silence stretched on between the two beings. Eventually, Aulë spoke.

"That may be because what you remember never existed, Urunírë. Mairon was, and still is as far as I know, even more insecure than you were; the attitude and arrogance you remember were a mask. He longed for approval and praise above all else and looked for it wherever it came from. He longed for it to the point where he willingly turned to Morgoth when our fallen brother promised to give him those very things."

Urunírë's head shot up. Horror filled his eyes.

"He-he joined _Him_ because of how I made him feel?"

Aulë sighed.

"That certainly wouldn't have helped, and I now better understand why he did what he did. But, yes. Mairon left us mainly because he didn't feel wanted or liked. In fact," Aulë gave his chief a foreboding look. "He thought you all hated him. He never understood what he'd done to cause those feelings. And no one ever enlightened him."

Urunírë felt his face flush in shame and guilt as he lowered his gaze once more. Aulë continued speaking.

"However, I'm also not entirely blameless in what happened. I allowed things to get out of hand to the point where Mairon left. I didn't reassure him of his place in our lives, and in my affections. And my failings led to him suffering more pain than anyone ever should."

Urunírë swallowed, not raising his eyes.

"What do you mean, my lord?"

Aulë sighed.

"Morgoth wasn't nice to Mairon and did some horrifying things to him. Things that shocked and horrified all of us when we examined his memories."

Urunírë clenched his jaw.

"What-what sort of things?"

Aulë's expression and tone sent shivers down the Maia's spine.

"Things that would give many nightmares if they found out. While Mairon joined Him by choice, know that not everything he did while in his service was done voluntarily. And Mairon's choice to join him in the first place was heavily influenced by the dismissive, and sometimes hostile, treatment he received from us."

Urunírë did not know how to respond to that. After waiting a long moment, Aulë continued.

"I will speak to Námo about this." Urunírë shuddered at the thought of the Doomsman of Arda becoming involved, but said nothing. After a beat, Aulë continued talking. "My brother Vala is Mairon's lord now, and thus it's up to him to decide how he wants to handle the information you've just told me. I will let you know what he says. But, whatever happens, I think you owe Mairon an explanation. And an apology."

Urunírë nodded humbly.

"Yes, my lord. I – I know. And I will do as you say."

"Good. However," Aulë gave his chief a disappointed look that made him squirm. "while apologising is a good start, I can't let this attitude go unpunished. I am very disappointed in you, Urunírë. I chose you, not Mairon, to be my chief because I saw you had an empathy and wisdom that Mairon, for all his skills in smith work, lacked. You had the ability to command love and respect from others alongside a natural authority that made you fall into a leadership role very easily. It saddens me greatly to know you used these very qualities to alienate and belittle one of your fellow kinsmen and brothers."

Urunírë bowed his head. Tears of shame and humiliation shone in his eyes as he knelt before his lord. Aulë didn't stop him.

"I'm sorry for what I did, my lord. I will humbly and willingly accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate for my actions."

Aulë looked at him with compassion in his eyes, though there was also a thread of steel there that made yet another shiver spread up the Maia's spine.

"Due to the nature of the incident, I feel I must consult with my brethren before deciding what disciplinary actions to take. In the meantime, I will arrange a meeting with Mairon so you can apologise for your actions."

Urunírë nodded humbly.

"As you will, my lord."

* * *

Urunírë felt like he was being watched.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Especially when he was otherwise alone in the huge entrance hall of Lord Námo and Lady Vairë's mansion. It was somewhere he'd hoped never to be. At least he wasn't facing the Doomsman himself, the Maia thought.

Urunírë involuntarily shuddered at the thought of facing the Master of Doom in his own domain. Facing Mairon and admitting what he'd done was bad enough.

As he was thinking these things, one of Lord Námo's Maia appeared and nodded to him.

"Mairon will see you now, Urunírë. I've been sent by my lord to escort you. This place can be deadly for the unaware. My name's Tavaril."

Urunírë nodded in thanks, too overcome with nerves to verbally respond. Without another word Tavaril strode off, clearly expecting him to follow. Which, after a moment's hesitation, he did, though Urunírë found he had to practically run to keep up. Which was odd, he thought dimly. Tavaril didn't appear to be going any faster than a walk.

Tavaril led him across the entry hall and through a door he was sure had not been there before. Their route after that appeared to be so random that Urunírë had no more time to panic; it was all he could to do keep up with the other Maia. When Tavaril finally stopped outside a door that did not look different to any others they'd passed, Urunírë had to take a moment to catch his breath.

Tavaril raised an eyebrow, but waited until he was more composed before knocking twice on the door and opening it.

"In you go."

Urunírë walked through, only to find himself in a garden that glowed with life. Colourful flowers filled garden beds, releasing their sweet scent into the air, while wilwarins, bees, and even small birds happily went about their business. It was the last place Urunírë expected to find in the mansion of the Doomsman of the Valar and Keeper of the Souls of the Dead. The Maia found himself standing there, gaping, trying to reconcile this colourful paradise with the grim image he had of the Lord of Mandos.

He was so caught up in these thoughts that it took a while for him to notice the Maia he'd come here to see. Mairon was sitting at a small table set with two chairs in the centre of the gardens. He didn't say anything until the older Maia tore his eyes away from the garden, focussing on him. Only then did he speak.

"Urunírë. It's been a long time. Come, sit. My lord said you wanted to talk to me?"

The copper-haired Maia wore the same black tabard Tavaril had been wearing. Námo's sun-in-eclipse insignia was embroidered in silver and gold thread on the front. Underneath he wore a floor-length robe of burgundy with gold embroidery around the cuffs. Though Mairon's voice was curious, his eyes were carefully blank of emotions. In fact, Urunírë couldn't detect anything in either his voice or posture that would give away how he was feeling.

Though, the older Maia reminded himself, that wasn't altogether unexpected. Mairon still had no idea what he'd done. The copper-haired Maia had no reason to hate or scorn him.

Not yet.

"Yes. I – I do. I…have a confession to make. And an apology to render. Not that I deserve your forgiveness."

Mairon's eyes widened slightly.

"Maybe you should start at the beginning."

Urunírë took a deep breath as he sat down. Letting it out in a rush, the Maia started speaking, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"I was always envious of you, even before we left the Timeless Halls…"

* * *

Mairon listened without a word as Urunírë talked. The copper-haired Maia probably couldn't have said a word, even if he'd wanted to.

He was in too much shock.

Hearing Urunírë, who he'd always thought hated him, admit he'd been jealous of Mairon's skills was a new one. As was the older Maia's admittance it had been primarily his actions that'd turned others against Mairon. As Aulë's chief apologised for each one of those actions, Mairon started recovering. His thoughts were in turmoil at these revelations. But, by using Lord Irmo's tricks, he managed to keep his thoughts clear and his emotions together.

Finally, Urunírë ran out of things to say. Bowing his head, he fell silent, waiting for Mairon to respond. While Urunírë was clearly upset over the events, once he'd gotten over the initial shock (and had ordered his thoughts), Mairon felt nothing but an odd sense of detachment over what he'd been told. He briefly wondered at that. There'd been a time, not long ago, when he would probably have been in tears over someone admitting something like this to him.

Then again, that could have something to do with his memories of those times being practically non-existent. It was hard having an emotional connection to something you didn't really remember.

Right now, however, he felt sorrier for Urunírë than anything else. The past was the past, what was done was done. They couldn't change it; the only thing they could do was work at making the future brighter.

Mairon was jerked out of his thoughts when Urunírë suddenly spoke.

"I know I don't deserve forgiveness, and I won't ask for it. I just want you to know I'm very sorry for everything. I'd best be going now."

Urunírë stood up to go. But, before he could take more than two steps, Mairon reached out a hand, stopping him. The older Maia froze, refusing to look Mairon in the eye. The whole time he'd been talking, in fact, his eyes had been focussed on a spot on the table.

"I forgive you."

Urunírë looked up. His shock was tangible, and Mairon internally grimaced.

"Why?"

Mairon sighed, withdrawing his hand. Holding the gaze of the elder Maia, he spoke calmly.

"Because I've learnt the value of mercy. While I'm still figuring out the concept of forgiveness, I don't blame you for what you did. In fact, I am sorry for making you feel that way. I never meant to."

Urunírë shook his head adamantly.

"You're not at fault here, Mairon. You've done nothing to apologise for."

Mairon frowned, closing his eyes briefly in pain as a sudden thought occurred to him.

"If you really felt this way…does that mean, when I brought things I'd made to you, looking for praise, you…you thought I was lording my skills over you? Is that why…why you were always so cold and dismissive of my efforts to garner even a single word of praise or acknowledgment?"

Urunírë nodded.

"Yes." He said simply, voice raspy.

They were both silent for a moment. Mairon was the first to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That wasn't my intent at all."

Urunírë swallowed.

"I know that now. I didn't then. I am sorry Mairon. For everything."

The copper-haired Maia was staring at the table, eyes unseeing.

"So am I."

Silence reigned as they both sat there, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Mairon looked at Urunírë questioningly.

"I've already said that I forgive you. What happens now?"

Before the older Maia could reply, or even think of a reply, there was a flash of incandescent light that forced them both to close their eyes for a moment. Upon opening them again, the Maiar were greeted by the sight of none other than the Lords Námo and Aulë. Námo's expression was cold and foreboding; even Mairon couldn't discern what his lord was feeling. Aulë's expression was carefully blank, even as he nodded at the Doomsman.

"Tell him, brother."

Námo regarded Aulë's chief gravely. The Maia cowered under his regard. Even Mairon, who trusted the Doomsman like he trusted no one else, paled at the dark and foreboding aura of his lord.

"Urunírë of the people of Aulë. Seeing your actions were a direct betrayal against all the Valar and the responsibly we invested in you, the Elder King has agreed with Lord Aulë it is not right for him alone to mete out punishment." A shiver run through Urunírë's fana as Námo continued speaking, his voice taking on a dispassionate tone. "Therefore, when the sun reaches its zenith two days hence, you will present yourself before all the Valar in the main throne room in Valmar. There, you will have a chance to plead your case, and there you shall receive your sentence by the authority of Lord Manwë Súlimo, King of all Arda and Eru's vice-gerent in Eä. Do you understand this?"

Urunírë felt the blood drain from the face of his fana as blackness encroached on his senses. He was dimly aware of strong hands catching him before he hit the ground. Then, the blackness overwhelmed him, and he knew no more.

* * *

**Poor Urunírë. I promise, there is a point to all this.**


	24. Urunírë's trial

**Chapter 24: Urunírë's trial**

To say Urunírë was nervous was an understatement.

Terrified was closer to the mark.

Just the thought of facing the judgement of all fourteen of the Valar made him feel sick. But, that's what his lord had decreed was to happen, so happen it would. He was just glad the trial was to be held in the main throne room in Valmar and not the Máhanaxar. The Elves weren't the only ones to regard the Ring of Doom with a less than favourable attitude. The Maiar also held a healthy respect for it and what went on there. Despite his determination to remain calm, and not disgrace himself or his fellow Maiar, Urunírë knew he would have fainted by now if he'd been summoned to appear in the Máhanaxar.

It was bad enough standing in the antechamber of the Valars' throne room, waiting to be summoned before them to answer for his behaviour. Thankfully, he wasn't alone. Both Eönwë and Mairon were with him, the former having been temporarily summoned back from Endórë to act as the Valar's Herald and usurer for this trial.

As for why Mairon had elected to wait with him…well, Urunírë didn't know the answer to that. And he wasn't about to ask.

"They are fair and not without mercy. You don't need to fear."

Aulë's chief Maia looked at the copper-haired Maia with a grimace.

"I know." He said softly. "But what I did…I'm not sure you realise the gravity of the situation, Mairon. I not only sinned against you, I also betrayed the trust and responsibility the Valar invested in me. That my lord invested in me. That is what I am on trial for. My arrogance and self-importance is what's being judged here. And my lord has effectively given all of them permission to render whatever judgement they desire on me by declaring I must face them all."

The smaller Maia nodded.

"I know. But they are still merciful. Me even being here is proof of that."

Urunírë mulled briefly on the implication of Mairon's words, before nerves overcome him once again and he had to take several deep breaths. Eönwë looked on in sympathy, but did not say or do anything to interfere. He did, however, use some of his own energy to lend strength to Urunírë's fëa. He had no idea what had happened in his absence from Valinor, but didn't plan on getting involved until he had more details.

Though, he'd since realised something big had to have happened to involve all the Valar like this.

Now, listening to his fellow Maiar talk, the Herald became even more certain there was more going on here than met the eye.

However, before he had time to contemplate these thoughts more, Manwë's voice in his head caused him to look back at his fellow Maiar.

"They're ready for you now, Urunírë."

The Maia's face went white, and he swayed dangerously. Both Mairon and Eönwë laid hands on his arms to steady him. Mairon spoke softly.

"You'll be okay. My lord has promised me they'll treat you fairly. He said this trial is necessary, but that they will deal with you fairly."

Urunírë looked at him in confusion.

"You spoke to Lord Námo about me?"

Mairon nodded.

"Yes." The copper-haired Maia said simply. "I did. He promised me they would be fair in their judgment. They aren't any happier than you are about this, but it must be done."

Eönwë, sensing Urunírë wanted to ask more questions, cut them off as gently as he could.

"Keeping the Valar waiting is not a good idea."

Urunírë paled again, though this time he remained steady on his feet. Taking a deep breath, Urunírë shook off his fellow Maiar, squared his shoulders, and walked steadily towards the door.

Though, it hadn't escaped his notice that Mairon had given his arm a quick squeeze before he'd let go.

They entered the room in a line, Eönwë leading and Mairon bringing up the rear. The thrones in the throne room in Valmar were laid out in the same way as those in the Máhanaxar, with Manwë and Námo positioned opposite each other. One approached Námo from behind, thus giving Manwë an unobstructed line of sight to the main door from his throne. The room was laid out in such a way that one had to walk between Námo and Nienna to reach the middle of the room. As they passed between their thrones, Mairon broke off to remain standing next to his lord's throne. Eönwë and Urunírë continued to the middle of the circle and faced Manwë. Both Maiar gave him their obeisance as Eönwë spoke.

"My lords and ladies. I present to you the Maia, Urunírë, of the people of Lord Aulë."

Eönwë bowed again, before going to stand between Manwë and Varda's thrones. Looking around, the Herald noted (with the exception of Aulë's chief) that all the other chief Maiar were standing to the right of their lord's or lady's throne, looking grave. Many other Maiar who served many different Valar filled the spaces between the thrones. They were all clad in fanar, just like the Valar themselves were.

Eönwë didn't let his thoughts on the fact the Valar had chosen to make this a public event, or that everyone was in fana, show on his face. Even though such facts solidified his earlier suspicions further.

The Valar were up to something.

He was brought back to the situation at hand when Manwë spoke.

"Lord Námo. List the charges."

Being directly opposite the Doomsman and his Maiar, Eönwë observed Mairon winced at Lord Manwë's words. Tavaril, who was standing right next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder in support. Leaning over, she said something to him that made the smaller Maia visibly calm down.

This observation had taken but a few seconds. Námo now stood. All eyes went to the Doomsman, whose deep black hood and veiled eyes gave nothing away.

All but Urunírë.

The accused Maia did not lift his gaze from the ground in front of his feet. Nor did he turn around. Not even when Námo spoke.

"Urunírë, Chief Maia of the people of Aulë. You stand accused of betraying your lord's trust, and ill-treating your fellow Maia. How do you answer these charges?"

Urunírë didn't lift his eyes.

"I plead guilty to both charges."

There was a stir from many among the Maiar at hearing that, especially from those present who served Aulë. However, Oromë's and Nessa's followers also seemed unduly dismayed, Eönwë was quick to note. Before he had time to wonder about this, Manwë was speaking.

"Do you have any defence for your actions?"

Urunírë shook his head. His voice was soft when he spoke, but still loud enough to be easily heard.

"None, my lord."

The Valar were silent for a time as they held a conversation none of the Maiar were privy to. Then Aulë spoke.

"I beg to differ. Tell them what you told me. If nothing else, your brethren deserve to know the reason you are here before us."

There was another stir among the Maiar at that. Thought no one said anything, all eyes turned to Urunírë. The Maia in question lifted his head to address them, though he was careful to avoid looking directly at anyone.

"I am responsible for belittling and dismissing a fellow Maia under my command and for enticing others to do the same. In my arrogance and jealousy, I thought myself better than they and allowed this jealousy to overcome my judgement. I told myself they were arrogant and needed to be brought down and taught a lesson. I determined that, as Chief of Aulë's Maiar, it was my job to do just that. I was wrong."

There was a rush of whispers among the Maiar as to whom Urunírë could be referring to. However, Manwë soon put a stop to that.

"Silence. Let Urunírë finish speaking."

His words, while softly spoken, were like a cool breeze that often proceeded a gale force storm. The chatter instantly died down. Most eyes returned to Urunírë, though some Maiar looked elsewhere. Eönwë noted the expressions of all the Valar were set in stone, as were those of their Chiefs. He knew his own expression was the same, even as his mind was furiously working to process the drama unfolding before him.

Once everyone was silent, Urunírë spoke again.

"In thinking myself better than my brother and worthy of meting out punishment for a perceived crime against me, I defied the Valar and their authority. I also betrayed the trust my lord invested in me when he chose me to be his Chief and lead his people. These things I did knowingly and willingly by my own free will. Therefore, I offer no defence for my actions. I will humbly and gladly accept whatever punishment the Valar deem fit to give me."

Urunírë returned his gaze to the ground, seeming to shrink before them in his dejection. The Valar held another silent conversation before Manwë stood. While his focus was on them all, his words were addressed to the Maia in front of him.

"Thank you for your honesty, Urunírë. Now, I want you to look at me."

Urunírë shuddered, reluctantly raising dark brown eyes until they locked with the gaze of the Elder King. Eönwë was sure he saw _something _pass between them, but it was so brief he couldn't be entirely sure. Before he had time to begin processing what he thoughts he'd seen, Manwë was speaking.

"Before we pass judgement, there is one more thing we must do."

The King of the Vala then looked around at all the Maiar, before his gaze focussed on one.

"Mairon of the people of Lord Námo. Wouldst thou please step forward?"

His words caused quite a stir among the Maiar, though Mairon didn't seem surprised by the summons. Watching him coming to stand confidently just in front of Námo's throne, Eönwë realised he'd been in on whatever the Valar were doing.

Or at least, this part of it.

Once Mairon had given his obeisance to the Vala, Manwë regarded the copper-haired Maia gravely. However, though the Vala's expression and posture was serious, his voice held a warmth that helped settle the feeling of unease many didn't even realise had developed while Urunírë had been speaking.

"Mairon of the people of Lord Námo. Two days ago, Urunírë came to you in private, asking for forgiveness for these actions he took towards you." There were actual gasps of surprise and shock from many of the Maiar at that revelation, but the Vala ignored them. "Given the nature of these actions, we though it prudent to reconcile you two publicly before passing sentence."

Manwë now looked at the accused Maia with a hint of warmth in his gaze.

"Urunírë."

Aulë's chief looked up, focussing his gaze on Mairon.

"Mairon. I am truly sorry. For everything."

The copper-haired Maia nodded.

"I know. And, as I said before, I forgive you for it all."

A lot of muttering could be heard coming from the watching Maiar at that, but one look from Lord Námo had everyone falling silent. Eönwë, now more certain than ever this whole trial was happening so the Valar could make a point (though what that point was, he didn't yet know) watched with interest to see what would happen next.

Manwë nodded to Mairon, who stepped back to join Námo's other Maiar again. It hadn't escaped Eönwë's attention they'd all retained neutral expression throughout the whole trial.

"Thank you, Mairon of the people of Lord Námo. As you can see," Manwë raised his voice to address those gathered "there are no hard feelings between Urunírë and the one who was most affected by his actions. We expect the rest of you to follow their example, and not harbour hatred or resentment about anything you have learnt happened here today."

Manwë looked down at Urunírë. His gaze was gentle, though his voice remained impassive.

"However, due to the scorning of our authority and the arrogance that led to that happening, we still must pass sentence. Lord Námo. Wouldst thou declare to the accused our judgement?"

The Lord of Mandos stood, bowing to Manwë as he did so.

"Yes, my King."

The Doomsman and Judge of the Valar then regarded Urunírë with an unreadable expression.

"Urunírë of the people of Lord Aulë. This is the judgement we give. Due to a lack of both humility and wisdom that lead to these actions, we deem it right thou be removed from thy position as head of Lord Aulë's Maiar for a time. Thou shall take a temporary oath of allegiance to me and be placed among my own people. This posting will continue until such time as I deem thou hath learnt some measure of both humility and wisdom. When that happens, thou will then be restored to your former position within Aulë's household, and these wrongs held addressed and set to rest."

The shock in the room at this pronouncement was palpable. Even the Chiefs among the Maiar looked stunned. Eönwë managed to quickly school his expression, but he was still reeling from this pronouncement. Mairon stood there in shock, as did many of the others, even those belonging to the Lord of Mandos. However, their reactions were nothing compared to Urunírë's.

Looking at him to see how he'd taken his sentence, Eönwë was dismayed to note his fellow Maia's normally golden-brown skin was stark white. He appeared to be in shock, and Eönwë made to go to him, giving no thought for protocol.

However, Námo beat him to it.

"Astarion. Nurulírë."

While his voice was quiet, there was something in it that halted any other Maiar who may have been thinking of going to Urunírë's aid in their tracks. The two named Maiar moved away from Námo's throne, one going to stand on either side of Urunírë, discreetly steadying him while providing support and strength.

"Urunírë. I will hear your oath now."

Námo's voice was stern yet gentle, not that many among the Maiar noticed that last bit. Astarion leant over and said something to Urunírë; Nurulírë squeezed his shoulder at the same time. Taking a visibly deep breath, Aulë's Maia nodded. His complexion regained some of its normal colour as he held his head high and moved to stand in front of Námo's throne. However, once there, he dropped to his knees more suddenly, and somewhat harder, than was the norm. Eönwë suspected his legs were not able to support him anymore. Holding his clasped hands out in the traditional manner of a vassal surrendering themselves to a lord or lady, Urunírë bowed his head, waiting.

Without a word, Námo descended his throne to kneel in front of the Maia. Taking the offered hands in his own, the Vala said something only the Maia in front of him heard. To Eönwë, it was obvious whatever Námo said helped calm Urunírë down.

Everyone watched in silence as they gave the traditional oaths of allegiance to each other. While there was a slight catch in Urunírë's voice when he spoke his part, he did not break down nor do anything to disgrace himself. Eönwë was very proud of his brother Maia. Everyone knew he'd been far less composed that time he'd given his oath to Lord Námo oh so long ago.

Once it was done, Námo embraced his new Maia for a moment. He then turned to look at those standing nearby.

"Astarion and Nurulírë. Escort Urunírë to collect his things and then take him to Mandos. I already have a room being prepared for him."

The two nodded respectfully to their lord before thinking themselves and Urunírë away. Námo resumed his seat and nodded at Manwë. All eyes were on the Elder King as he stood up.

"I declare this trail ended and justice served. However," The sheer coldness in Manwë's voice halted those few Maiar whom had been in the process of leaving. "Hear this, all of you. While it may seem harsh to many of you, what happened here today was fair. Know Urunírë will receive the love and help he needs the entire time he is with Lord Námo and his people; he will not suffer. Also, know Urunírë's crimes were mild compared to those of some others among us."

Manwë's tone became even colder. Even Eönwë felt a frisson of fear echo deep within his fëa. In that moment, Manwë was every inch the High King of all Arda, no less than Eru's vice-gerent in Eä.

"We all remember what happened the last time someone disturbed our Peace." Everyone nodded, looking very subdued. "We will not risk it being broken again. Even if the perpetrator is one of our own. Doubt not they will be punished with a severity that fits the crime, as will all who aid them."

Once he was sure the message had been received and understood, Manwë nodded once.

"You are dismissed."

* * *

**I promise, there is a point to this.**


	25. Urunírë in Mandos

**Chapter 25: Urunírë in Mandos**

Urunírë placed the last of his small number of possessions – his remaining tunics, a book given to him by one of his friends, and the few trinkets he'd been given or created throughout the years – in his bag in silence. His whole body was numb. Out of all the possible outcomes from his trial, he hadn't expected to be banished from his lord's service. Even the fact that he'd effectively been demoted didn't hurt as much as the knowledge Lord Aulë had given him up.

His breathing hitched as the full ramifications of the past day's events registered once more. He now belonged to Lord Námo in fana and feá. He was the Doomsman's to do with as he pleased.

Aulë's former chief wasn't aware he was standing in the middle of the room, vacant gaze staring at nothing, until Astarion placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"If that's all you're bringing, it is time to go."

Urunírë swallowed, but didn't protest. He simply closed his bag, allowing himself to be led to where Nurulírë was waiting just outside his room. The brawny Maia's expression was unreadable. His voice, however, was gentle.

"Are you ready to go?"

Urunírë took one more look around at the familiar halls, drinking in the comfort bleeding from their well-known stone. Then he nodded mutely. Astarion and Nurulírë each placed a hand on one of his shoulders and thought them to Mandos.

They arrived in a comfortable room. A large bed sat in one corner with a desk in the opposite one; a dresser sat on the wall between them. The third corner was filled with a few deep armchairs and a small table. Even with the furniture and the warm colours of the bedspread, walls and the bright carpet, the room was sparse and had the chill only unlived in rooms could hold.

Urunírë looked around mutely. This room was so different to his own room – to his old room he reminded himself. Still not saying anything, the demoted Maia put his few things away in the dresser. He then sat on the bed, staring at the wall. He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't realise Nurulírë had since left. Or that Astarion was standing near the door watching him with pity and concern.

"Would you like me to stay with you?"

When he received no answer, and Urunírë still didn't move, Námo's chief sighed. Walking over to his fellow Maia, Astarion sat down next to Urunírë, slipping an arm around the other's shoulders. The male half of the Chiefs of Mandos was shocked to find Urunírë had started shaking at some point, even as his gaze didn't leave the wall.

"I think you're suffering from a bit of shock, my friend. Let's get you into bed."

Urunírë didn't resist Astarion as the later got him ready for bed. Astarion practically pushed him under the covers, tucking him in before turning down the lamp so the room was illuminated in a soft blue glow. Sitting next to the bed on a chair he called up, Astarion took hold of Urunírë's hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. He then started singing.

He sang a lullaby familiar to all who served or resided in Mandos. Not only was it Námo's favourite (for reasons he'd never disclosed to anyone, except maybe Vairë), but it also never ceased to calm even the most upset and confused fëa. It had the same effect on the Maiar. Every time he sang it, or heard it being sung, Astarion felt a great peace and calm settle into the very centre of his fëa.

He just hoped it would help calm the other Maia who'd managed to land himself in Mandos.

Astarion's lips twitched upwards in grim humour.

That event seemed to be happening a lot as of late. Well, there were far worst places one could end up than under Lord Námo's care.

For care it was. Regardless of what people insisted on believing about the Vala.

Astarion gave a mental sigh. Continuing with the song, he was happy to note Urunírë had gone to sleep at some point. He also looked much more relaxed than he had before.

Still, Astarion had no intentions of leaving him alone just now. Urunírë was suffering from a huge shock, and would need careful and patient handling to come through it as painlessly as possible.

Urunírë probably thought he was alone right now. Which was totally untrue.

None who came to Mandos were ever alone.

* * *

Urunírë blinked awake, disoriented when he beheld an unfamiliar ceiling. For a second, he had no idea where he was. Then, the memories of what had happened assaulted him. He'd given his oath to the Lord of Mandos. Closing his eyes in despair, Urunírë curled up underneath the bedclothes in dejection.

He felt strangely empty and drained of emotions.

"Ah, I see sleepyhead is finally awake."

Urunírë groaned, recognising the voice and hiding his head under the sheet. The last person he wanted to face right now was Ornaicassë's sister. While she was nice enough (from the few times he'd interacted with her in the past), right now, she reminded him of all he'd lost.

Alassë, however, didn't seem to be affected by whom she was dealing with.

"None of that." The Maia said briskly, attempting to strip the bedclothes off him. Urunírë held onto them with grim determination. "It's late in the morning, and past time for you to rise and shine. You missed breakfast, but Fanyamírë has said to take you to the kitchen when you're wake, and she'll give you some fruit and bread to tide you over. It's only a couple of hours until the noontime meal is due to be served anyway."

Seeing she had his attention, Alassë let go of the bedclothes. Urunírë clutched them to him, briefly wondering how he was wearing nightclothes, as he had no memories of putting them on, or even of going to bed. The last thing he remembered was packing up those things he wanted to bring to Mandos.

Alassë seemed to read his thoughts. Her voice was surprisingly gentle and understanding.

"Astarion stayed with you last night. He was called away in the early hours of the morning to deal with some fëar who were being troublesome. He's still busy dealing with them now, but will see you at the noontime meal."

Alassë waited until he nodded in understanding before her tone became brisker.

"In the meantime, I'll show you where to bath and freshen up. We can head to the kitchens afterwards. Oh, our lord has also requested you go to his study one hour after the noontime meal."

Urunírë paled at the mention of the Vala who now held his allegiance. Alassë sighed, noticing his changed demeanour.

"There's nothing to fear, Urunírë. Lord Námo isn't going to do anything bad to you. He simply wants to talk to you, get a feel for what skills and interests you have, and figure out how they can be best used to serve him. That's all. Now, come. You can wear your own clothes for now."

Urunírë wondered at her last words, but something stopped him from asking any questions. Doing what she said, he picked up his clothes. Trailing after her in his nightclothes, he looked around with interest as she led him through corridors dripping with colourful tapestries and fluffy carpets. Seeing his awed look, Alassë chuckled.

"Lady Vairë dislikes things being plain. I'm sure she'll be wanting to spend some time with you soon enough. As will her Maiar. They're all eager to get to know their new brother. As are we all."

Alassë smiled at him. A smile which turned to a frown when he stopped dead in the middle of the hallway.

"What's wrong?"

Urunírë swallowed.

"Why would they want to get to know me? I'm here as punishment, I don't – I didn't think…"

Alassë looked surprised.

"Don't think what? That, just because of the unfortunate circumstances that landed you here, we wouldn't treat you with as much love and warmth as we would any of our own?" Alassë gave him a sympathetic look full of unconditional love. "You are one of us now, Urunírë, regardless of the circumstances which led to it. We look after our own. No matter what."

Urunírë swallowed.

"But I – I'm not one of you. I can't be. I-I've only been here less than a day. Not nearly enough time for that to happen."

Alassë looked at him thoughtfully.

"You've taken oath to Lord Námo. As I said, that's true regardless of the circumstances that led to it. You're now one of us. Whether you like it or not." Alassë grinned kindly at him. "Best get used to it."

Urunírë said nothing more as he followed Alassë to the bathhouse. The numbness he'd felt since giving his oath to the Lord of Mandos had since worn off, leaving an empty feeling in its place.

* * *

Urunírë found his meeting with Lord Námo not as nerve-wracking as he'd feared. While the Vala didn't smile nor display any type of emotion, his infinite patience while talking to Urunírë about what he could do to serve him calmed his turbulent thoughts. Thoughts that had plaguing the Maia ever since he'd woken up.

When they were finally finished discussing what he could do to best serve his new lord, Námo regarded him gravely.

"Do you know, my son, why we ruled the way we did when the events that landed you here happened eons ago?"

Urunírë went to nod automatically, not about to admit he didn't know something he felt he should. However, before he could carry through with it, something stopped him. Thinking on it further, the demoted Maia realised he didn't want to lie to Lord Námo, even inadvertently. And, he truly wasn't sure why they'd ruled the way they had. Looking at the Vala who now held his allegiance, Urunírë swallowed.

"No, I don't. M-my lord."

Urunírë felt a hint of approval touch his fëa at his honest answer, though Námo's posture remained grave. Yet, his voice belayed his posture by the sheer gentleness in it when he spoke.

"We ruled the way we did because the arrogance that led you to do those things is still there. While you may not be consciously aware of it, you still see yourself as been better than your brethren on some level. Simply because you were given the honour and privilege of being a chief of Aulë's people. However, being appointed as such is an honour and privilege, not a right. While you may not be consciously aware of it, that's how you see that position now. A right that makes you somehow above others. We can't allow that attitude to prevail. Especially not now."

Námo regarded the Maia with compassion.

"Do you understand now why we ruled the way we did, my son?"

Tears trickled down Urunírë's cheeks uninvited at hearing that. The demoted Maia made no effort to brush them away.

"Yes. I-I-I…"

To his horror and dismay, the Maia found he couldn't stop the tears. Humiliation and shame swept through him as he realised he was in danger of breaking down crying front of his new lord. What must Lord Námo be thinking? Barely a full day in his service and already he was acting weak and sensitive.

Two things he tried so hard not to be, trying to prove his worth as a Maia. Trying to prove those who looked on him and his brethren as somehow being worth less than the Valar, simply by virtue of what they were, wrong.

Urunírë was so lost in his own thoughts, he didn't see Námo start as the Vala discerned what he was thinking. The Maia was not being quiet with his thoughts, and Námo was one of the Fëanturi. Without a word, the Vala wrapped his arms around Urunírë, pulling him in close. That simple gesture of affection and unconditional love from someone he barely knew was what finally pushed Urunírë over the edge.

Fury the likes of which he had never experienced before suddenly overtook him. Humiliation forgotten, the Maia yanked out of Námo's embrace, pushing him away with force.

"Why do you care? I did wrong, I'm here to be punished. Why are you being nice?!"

Tears poured down his cheeks, but he didn't notice them in his anger and humiliation. As the hysteria took hold, nothing registered except the all-consuming need to get his feelings out. The all-consuming need to yell at someone, to take out his frustrations and tangled emotions.

"I'm here to be punished. SO PUNISH ME!"

Continuing to scream invectives at the Vala, Urunírë didn't even register the fact Námo didn't try and stop him. Didn't say or do anything, simply allowed the Maia to vent his feelings. How long this went on for, Urunírë couldn't say. Eventually however, he ran out of energy. Hunching in on himself, the Maia began crying in earnest, giant sobs shaking his frame.

Lost in his head as he was, Urunírë started when gentle arms once more encircled him.

"Shh, my child. It'll all be okay, Urunírë. Let it all out. Only when you let go of the bitterness holding you captive can the healing begin."

Námo gently rocked the Maia. Feeling too drained to resist the comfort being offered, Urunírë buried his head in the Vala's shoulder, soaking Námo's robe with his tears. The Vala said nothing about it, giving silent comfort and love. Urunírë cried until he didn't have any tears left, and even then, his whole body still shook as if with supressed sobs.

Finally, when Urunírë was too exhausted and sick with sorrow to keep his eyes open much longer, the Vala spoke.

"Feeling a bit better?"

Urunírë's shoulders started shaking again as his breathing hitched. His voice was so brittle, it sounded like it would break if so much as a gasp of wind passed.

"I-I'm sorry."

Námo's voice was compassionate.

"What for?"

An involuntary sob escaped the Maia.

"For-for everything. But-but especially for y-yelling at you. I-I know I d-deserve punishment, but-but-but p-please, don't hurt me t-too bad…"

In response, Námo tightened his grip on the Maia, and began softly humming a lullaby. It sounded vaguely familiar, though Urunírë had no idea where he'd heard it before. It had no discernible words, but the Maia felt calmness and a great sense of peace overtake his fëa as the Doomsman continued singing.

Sometime later, Námo looked down at the now quiescent Maia in his arms with an expression of love as he finally stopped singing.

"I don't intend to hurt you, Urunírë. Yes, yelling at me was not wise and largely uncalled for. Yet, you also couldn't help it. Your fëa is currently under a large amount of emotional pain; you weren't in your right mind. You still aren't. Come, let's put you to bed. Sleep is the best way to start healing your fëa right now."

Before Urunírë could find the energy to protest, they were back in his room. Námo had him undressed and in nightclothes almost before he had time to blink and was tucking him under the covers. Looking up at his new lord with swollen and red-rimmed eyes, Urunírë was please when his voice remained mostly steady.

"You're nothing like what they say you are."

Námo gave him a gentle look.

"What do they say I am?"

Urunírë's face coloured as he looked away.

"I…don't worry. It's not important."

Námo begged to differ, though he had a fair idea what his newest charge was talking about. But, knowing now wasn't the time to push, he stayed quiet. Leaning down, the Doomsman placed a gentle kiss on Urunírë's brow. The Maia instantly gave a huge yawn, the desire to sleep completely overwhelmed him. Snuggled underneath the covers and drifting off, he didn't see the small smile gracing Námo's lips.

"Rest, my child. Rest, and find the peace you have denied yourself for too long. When you wake, the real healing can begin."

* * *

"How's he doing?"

Námo gave Manwë a wry look.

"Well, he's been with me less than two days and has already resorted to screaming invectives at me that put Fëanor to shame. He then suffered a psychic breakdown. I think we're going to get along just fine."

Manwë snorted.

"If you say so." His expression and demeanour sobered. "Is it really that bad? I noticed that arrogance in his fëa when I looked into his eyes, but…"

Manwë trailed off as Námo sighed. Putting down his goblet of miruvórë, the Doomsman turned to face his elder brother in the thoughts of Ilúvatar.

"Yes." He said simply. "It is that bad. And then some. But I can fix it, given enough time. I'm not sure Aulë will get his chief back anytime this Age, however. Or possibly even the next one. Even when he heals from his current ordeal, Urunírë has a lot to learn before I'm willing to release him from my authority. Even then, I think he will benefit from spending some time with my sister before he is allowed to go back to Aulë."

Manwë frowned pensively.

"What caused this attitude of his, do you think?"

Námo's expression didn't change, even as his voice became more guarded. Manwë felt a shiver run up his spine at the unspoken implications in his brother's words.

"I think there's more than one factor at play here, but only time will confirm or deny my suspicions. For that is all they are at the present; suspicions." Námo looked at Manwë with an apology in his aura. The eldest in the thoughts of Ilúvatar grimaced, taking a gulp of miruvórë to steady his nerves. "And, even if I wanted to, I don't have leave to share them with you. Not yet and possibly never."

Manwë nodded in acceptance, even though there was pain in his eyes.

"It will be as _Atar_ wills it."

Námo nodded.

"Yes. It will."

There was silence between them for a while. Námo broke it.

"Eönwë suspects something is up beyond Urunírë needing to be taught about humility."

Manwë looked at the Doomsman in surprise.

"What makes you say that?"

Námo's lips twitched. "His behaviour at the trial. That Maia isn't stupid. None of them are. I know for a fact there are several others who suspect there was more to what happened to Urunírë than meets the eye. I imagine the gossip mill will be interesting."

Manwë frowned.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

Námo's countenance was neutral.

"That remains to be seen. Is not that the whole point of doing what we did though? To serve as a warning to others of the hell that will fall on their heads if they belittle or seek to humiliate their fellow Maiar?"

Manwë nodded.

"Yes. But I still have my doubts about it. I might have to have a little chat with Eönwë before he goes back to Endórë."

Námo frowned.

"I don't think that's wise."

Manwë was surprised. The Valar didn't normally tell each other how to handle their own Maiar. Námo least of all.

"Why?"

The Doomsman looked at him, eyes slightly unfocussed.

"I just feel it's not a good idea to interfere with the thoughts that are happening among the Maiar right now. Not unless they come to us with specific questions."

Manwë was about to ask why Námo thought that, but a voice echoing in the depths of his own fëa stopped him. The Elder King listened to what Eru had to say, before turning to his brother.

"You're right. _Atar_ does not want us to interfere either. Not yet."

Námo nodded. To Manwë's eyes, he looked smug, even though his expression hadn't changed.

"I know."

Glaring at his brother in mock annoyance, Manwë let some amusement creep into his gaze.

"In the meantime, I think we should rename Mandos 'Námo's home for the lost souls of both incarnates and Ainur'."

Námo's voice was dry.

"That is so accurate on so many levels, it's not even funny, my brother."

Manwë sobered again, sighing into his own goblet of miruvórë. To his chagrin, the Elder King noticed it was almost empty.

"I know. And something tells me Urunírë won't be the last one to end up in your care before this is sorted."

Námo's only response to that was silence.


	26. Repercussions

**A/N Sorry for the delay, but I currently have no wifi at my place, so my next update may be a few days longer then normal.**

* * *

**Chapter 26: Repercussions**

"They are onto you, brother. They cannot be anything but. That trial and what Lord Manwë said afterwards…to continue down this path is to land yourself in even more trouble than Urunírë did. And I honestly can't think up a worse punishment than being given to the Lord of Mandos to do with as he wills."

The orange-eyed Maia was pacing the room. At the other's words, he turned and snarled.

"I know. I've always known. They're the Valar; there's no way they'd not eventually find out. I didn't care, still don't, so long as they don't interfere until _after_ I've avenged my brother."

Roimewen raised an eyebrow.

"The chances of that happening have decreased dramatically since you attacked Sauron in Lórien. I said that was a bad idea, but did you listen? No!"

Her brother glared at her, frowning in annoyance at the smug grin on the face of her fana.

"It was all part of the Master Plan."

She snorted.

"Master Plan, What Master Plan? The one the Valar quite elegantly foiled?"

The Maia growled.

"Interfering bastards. The lot of them."

Roimewen raised an eyebrow again.

"Losing all respect for them isn't going to do you any good in the long run, my brother. They'll pick up on that, then where will you be?"

Orange eyes blazed.

"Seeing as you doubt my wisdom, what would you suggest I do, oh Wise One?"

His voice dripped with sarcasm, but Roimewen was not put off.

"You really want my advice? Put the Plan on hold for a few months. Let all this cool down. Then, when no one is expecting it, spring the trap."

Her brother stopped pacing, looking at her intently.

"You're not going to tell me to give it up?"

"No." She crossed her arms. "I know that's pointless. You aren't going to stop until you've achieved the end goal. But, surely waiting a few months won't negatively impact things too much? It will help ensure the Valar aren't so vigilant when you do decide to act."

The orange-eyed Maia stared at her for a while, deep in thought. His eyes flickered a few times, before, finally, he gave a feral grin.

"At last, you are some use to me. Very well. I'll wait until things calm down to carry out my plan. In the meantime, you can help me perfect what I'm going to do."

Roimewen nodded.

"Fair enough. So, what's the modified plan going to consist of?"

* * *

Eönwë and Ilmarë splashed each other's fana, laughing as they played tag in the shallows of the lake. They were off-world, on one of the remote planets that littered Eä. Eönwë's visit was only a short one, and the siblings were determined to make the most of it. Hence why they were up here, far from the worries of day-to-day existence.

It wasn't until they'd exhausted themselves, and collapsed panting into the soft sand making up a small beach, that Eönwë felt able to voice the thoughts that had been on his mind ever since Urunírë's trial.

"Ilmarë. Something tells me a lot has happened in my absence from Valinor. Urunírë's trial is but the result of a combination of events, and I feel there is more to it than meets the eye. Maybe you can tell me what I've missed?"

Ilmarë frowned, rolling over to face him, hand tucked under her chin, sand sticking to her still wet fana. Eönwë was sitting up, wings spread out behind him to allow them to dry. While he could have simply taken on a form without them, the Maia was loathed to do that. It was bad enough having to keep his wings hidden while he was with the Edain. He didn't wish to keep himself so contained while with his sister. This was his time to truly be himself, without having to keep aspects hidden and tucked away.

"You're right about one thing." Ilmarë sighed wearily. "A lot has happened since you left a few months ago. Not the least of which is certain rumours being spread…"

Eönwë listened in silence as his sister filled him in on what had happened recently. When she spoke about the banquet of a few days ago, the Herald frowned.

"That…was a pretty blatant way to send a message."

Ilmarë nodded. Her dark eyes were troubled.

"Yes. It seemed to have worked, but I am concerned there's going to be ramifications from it that will only be discovered in time." The Maia sighed once more. "Like Urunírë."

Eönwë sat up straighter, flicking one wing experimentally to see how it was drying.

"Yes, what's the deal there?"

His sister shook her head, sitting up to better talk to him as he began grooming his still damp wings.

"I don't know any more than you do about that. But your suspicions about why the Valar chose to do things that way make sense. Are you planning on speaking with Lord Manwë before you leave again?"

Eönwë looked pensive.

"I don't know." He admitted quietly. "I want to, but don't know if he'll tell me anything I don't already know." Eönwë looked mournful. "The Valar…expect us to obey them and their commands without question. They've always been tight-lipped about certain things. I've never had a problem with it before; it's their right as Ilúvatar's chosen to keep things from us. We're simply here to help them. But, since the Darkening, I feel it's gotten worse. Even my lord doesn't confide in me like he used to." Eönwë frowned, looking out to the horizon. "I'm not sure asking why they did that to Urunírë will get any satisfactory answers." He admitted quietly.

Ilmarë nodded thoughtfully.

"You're probably right. While I'm sure they don't mean to-to…" The female Maia floundered for the right words to express what she wanted to say. Eönwë nodded in understanding.

"I know."

The siblings were silent for a long moment. Eönwë spoke first.

"What was the response to Mairon having the honour of dining with his lord, while Marilwë and Astarion served them?"

Ilmarë's frowned creased her forehead.

"Some felt slighted and humiliated; though I haven't been able to determine exactly who feels that way. I do know the bulk of the resentment towards Mairon is presently coming from Nessa's, Tulkas' and Oromë's people. Or at least, it _seems_ to be. They're the most vocal. Though only time will tell what happens among Lord Aulë's folk now their chief has been demoted to Mandos. I have my doubts Ornaicassë has the right temperament to lead his lord's people in Urunírë's absence. For all that he's the third-in-command of Aulë's forges."

Eönwë sighed.

"Only time will tell with that. Ornaicassë might surprise us yet. And, while I do feel sympathy for Urunírë, he is luckier than most realise. There are worse punishments than serving as one of Lord Námo's retinue."

Ilmarë looked at him.

"You've never spoken much about your time with him."

Eönwë nodded.

"For good reasons. And I don't intend to start now. But, I don't regret any of those _yéni _I spent under his instruction and care. Urunírë will be fine. It's everyone else I am concerned about."

Ilmarë bit here lip.

"So, if you aren't going to approach Lord Manwë with your concerns, what are you going to do?"

Eönwë sighed heavily, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"Nothing. At least, not at this point. There isn't a lot I can do right now, with spending most of my time on Endórë with the Edain. It's hard to do something when I'm not here."

Ilmarë sighed now. The good mood she'd been in when they'd sat down had since fled.

"I'm looking forward to when you are finished up there, and come back to stay. Being the sole Chief of the Maiar is tiring."

Eönwë put an arm around her shoulder in consolation, wrapping his wings (which had dried while they'd talked) around them both on reflex.

"You're okay though, aren't you?"

Ilmarë sighed, melting into his embrace.

"I'm enduring, but I get the feeling there is trouble brewing on the near horizon, Eönwë. Trouble I'm helpless to do anything against. It presses against me every waking second, making me feel as if I must run before I'm swept away. Mairon coming back to us seems to have set off a chain reaction of events. Not that I'm sorry he's here. Especially with seeing how quiet and remorseful he is. I've since let go of most of the resentment I held towards him. I still hate Morgoth with a passion, but I'm trying not to let those feelings consume me like they were before."

Eönwë smiled.

"That's good to hear, sister-mine. Holding anger and hate in your heart does no one any good. _He_ is gone now, and won't trouble us again until the Remaking of the world."

Ilmarë frowned. For a moment, her eyes took on a distant look.

"Something tells me his influence on the world will continue to be felt until _after_ the Remaking."

Eönwë could think of no suitable reply.

* * *

Urunírë regarded Quentalë with a bemused expression.

"Are you sure you want me?"

Eärwá's husband nodded with a smile.

"Yes. We all want to get to know you better. A few of Námo's have even said they'll join us. We're going to have a tea party on the rooftop terrace."

Urunírë frowned.

"We're allowed to do that? I understood the upper levels of Mandos belong to Lady Vairë. I've been told I need her permission to go up there."

Quentalë smiled.

"Which you have. I have already spoken to my lady about it. She's quite happy for you to join us."

Urunírë sighed.

"What kind of things do you do at a tea party? I have seen some of the maidens hold them, and they seem to do is giggle about everything while drinking tea."

Quentalë's smile widened.

"There's more to a tea party then that. We do talk, that is true, and we also catch up on gossip and other things we've heard on the Maiarin grapevine. But we also tell stories, play games, and generally have a good time. I believe Marilwë is going to share her latest poem with us this afternoon. Eärwá has also made her famous shortbread biscuits, and she would be most disappointed if you declined to show up."

Urunírë's eyes widened. He'd had Eärwá's biscuits once before, and still remembered their creamy buttery flavour, and the way they'd melted in his mouth.

"Okay, you've convinced me. I'll come."

Quentalë grinned.

"Great. What are we waiting for?"

The two Maiar thought themselves to the roof, where about two dozen others were already assembled. As soon as they turned up, Urunírë was pounced on by Nurulírë, and carted off to be introduced to several of Vairë's Maiar. Quentalë looked at his wife in bemusement as he was suddenly bereft of his companion. Eärwá laughed at his expression.

"You'll get your chance, dear. Perhaps. In the meantime, have a shortbread biscuit."

There was suddenly a smell of roses, and a tall Maia with black hair and grey eyes appeared on the terrace, looking around hopefully.

"Did someone say shortbread biscuits?"

There was shocked silence for a moment, and then all the Maiar started laughing. Tavaril was the first to recover, jumping up to greet the Maia with a warm hug.

"Yes, Eärwá made shortbread biscuits. They're on the table, help yourself. You know she takes it as a personal insult if they all aren't eaten, and she seems to have made hundreds of them this time."

The black-haired Maia happily took a handful, before plonking himself down next to Tavaril, cheerfully chowing down. Though no one seemed unduly bothered by the sudden appearance of this strange Maia, Urunírë found himself feeling uneasy for some reason. And it wasn't just because he didn't remember ever seen this Maia before in his life.

Finally, the ex-chief of Aulë's Maiar mustered up his courage. The Maia was sitting practically opposite him after all, and he was starting to feel uncomfortable not even knowing his name.

"I don't think we've met before. I'm Urunírë, chief of, er, um, I mean…former chief…"

Urunírë floundered, unsure of how to introduce himself. However, the black-haired Maia wasn't upset. He merely gave the smith a knowing look, and a small bow.

"Greetings, Urunírë. My name's Lómindil. And I know what happened. I was there, though few saw me. Welcome to my lord's service."

Urunírë had already noted, unlike all the others, this Maia wore no coloured tabard, nor did he have any insignia embroidered on his clothes. Which was most unusual for a Maia. Most loved showing their allegiance to their lord or lady.

Apparently, this one didn't.

Urunírë blinked, only to find Lómindil was now sitting close enough to him that they could talk without being overheard. Looking at him with an expression that reminded the smith eerily of Lord Námo, Lómindil spoke softly.

"To answer your unspoken questions my brother; yes. I owe allegiance to Lord Námo. Though my duties to my lord often take me away from Mandos, so I'm not around all that often. That is also one of the reasons I don't often wear my lord's insignia."

Urunírë looked worried.

"How did you know I had all those questions?"

Lómindil gave him a considering look.

"I didn't look at your thoughts, if that's what you're worried about. In truth, I didn't need to. Your thoughts are _very_ loud. It's like you make no attempt to shield them." The raven-haired Maia looked vaguely amused, as Urunírë's jaw dropped. "And in answer to your other question, serving Lord Námo doesn't necessarily mean you work with the fëar. While most of us do, some of us have abilities that are better suited elsewhere."

Urunírë blinked.

"I thought I was shielding my thoughts."

Lómindil looked sympathetic.

"You are, but the shields are not very sophisticated. You might want to ask Lord Námo about working with Lord Irmo to strengthen them. Not that I'm disparaging your own skill," the raven-haired Maia gave the blushing Urunírë a knowing look, "but you could do with some training from the Fëanturi. You're here to learn from Lord Námo after all."

Urunírë's shoulder's drooped.

"I know."

While he tried to keep his voice calm, Urunírë couldn't help a note of despair from creeping in. Lómindil gave his arm a quick squeeze, before moving to sit back next to Tavaril, and clapping his hands to get everyone's attention.

"It's occurred to me, given those in our presence who haven't been here very long, it might be a good idea to play a get-to-know-you game. Why don't we go around, each saying our name, whether we serve Námo or Vairë, and revealing one random fact about ourselves." At the agreeable nodes he received, the Maia's grey eyes gleamed. "I'll start. My name's Lómindil. I serve Lord Námo, and I love swimming in the sea. Tavaril, would you like to go next?"

The female Maia gave him a brief smiled.

"I am Tavaril, and I serve Lord Námo…"

* * *

_Roof of Mandos, that night._

Lómindil watched the moon sail behind the clouds. The Maia smiled and waved, knowing Tilion would see him. He'd been fond of the other Maia, and had grieved at the knowledge Tilion's decision to steer the moon meant he would rarely be able to spend time with him now. Still, he knew his fellow Maia had volunteered for the job, and was happy with his decision.

Though Lómindil also knew he'd mostly volunteered because of Arien. Even before they'd left the Timeless Halls, Tilion had been besotted with her. She had to have known about his feelings towards her, but her behaviour made it obvious she wasn't the least interested in him. Or anyone else for that matter. He knew Eönwë had made advances on her once by asking her to dance with him, and been promptly shut down.

Arien had not believed in 'mincing her words' as the mortals put it.

A slight stir of the air brought the Maia out of his thoughts. Turning around, Lómindil inclined his head.

"My lord."

Námo inclined his own head in return, before coming to stand next to his Maia.

"Lómindil. What do you have to tell me?"

The raven-haired Maia looked troubled.

"Nothing good, I'm afraid."

Námo's voice was impassive.

"Tell me."

So Lómindil told him, leaving nothing out. The longer he talked, the more impassive Námo seemed to become, if that was even possible. But, by the time he'd finished, the Vala was frowning heavily.

"I don't like the sound of this."

Lómindil sighed.

"Me neither, my lord. Yet, it seems there is solid foundations to Urunírë's feelings. And, it seems he is not alone in those feelings."

Námo nodded to himself, before asking a question.

"What started this, do you think?"

Lómindil shrugged.

"I cannot say, my lord. I don't feel confident to even hazard a guess. As we know, all it takes is for one person to say one word carelessly, and a situation develops. We will need more information about specifics before we know that. When are you going to ask Urunírë about it?"

Námo sighed. He looked pensive.

"Not for a while. He is not strong enough for an interrogation yet. Especially my form of interrogation. Plus, I need to show him I'm not like that. He must come and confide in me of his own free will if we are to get anywhere. If he thinks I see him as weak because of his very nature, asking him about things won't get us anywhere."

Now it was Lómindil's turn to sigh.

"Why must things always be so complicated, lord?"

Námo put an arm around him in consolation.

"That's the way of having free will."

Lómindil melted into his lord's embrace, closing his eyes.

"Sometimes, I wonder if it's really all worth it."

Námo's voice was gentle, yet had a core of steel.

"It is. Never doubt the value of free will, Lómindil."

The Maia ducked his head in shame.

"I apologise, my lord. I spoke out of turn."

Námo's response was to put his other arm around him.

"You did, but it's good I know you are having these thoughts. Free will is a precious gift that is to be treasured and protected. It's the single greatest gift Eru gave to us all. Yes, it does seem to create more problems than it solves." Námo gave a grim smile that lacked any humour. "But the positives far outweigh the negatives. Never doubt it's worth."

Lómindil hung his head in shame.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I won't entertain those thoughts again."

Námo placed a gentle kiss on his head.

"I know you won't, my son. I understand this is a difficult time for you, especially with what I have asked you to do. And I fear it will get worse before it gets better. Urunírë coming to me has set off a chain reaction, the consequences of which I cannot even begin to guess. Have you seen anything clear regarding the future, or is it all a jumbled mess?"

Lómindil grimaced.

"It's a jumbled mess most of the time. Those things that are clear change so frequently, I have no idea what to make of them."

"You know I'm always willing to listen to anything you have to say. You can come to me with anything anytime you feel you need to."

Lómindil nodded.

"I know, my lord."

* * *

***Author whistles innocently***


	27. Failure

**I still have no wifi. Happily, the local library does, so here's the next chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 27: Failure**

Námo frowned as his concentration was broken by an excited shout echoing through his fëa.

To get a direct communication from Aulë wasn't unusual for Námo. They'd started communicating quite frequently when Mairon first entered into the Doomsman's care. Though not as frequent nowadays, Aulë still kept tabs on how both Mairon and Urunírë were doing. Not that Námo told him much. Both Maiar were _his_ now, even if Urunírë would eventually go back to his chosen lord. However, as Aulë did what he did out of love for them, Námo didn't begrudge him wanting to know how they were doing. Even though he'd had to put boundaries in place for how often Aulë was permitted to ask after them.

Námo knew his brother Valar felt guilty for the events that had landed both Maiar in Mandos. Though Mairon was here by choice and very happy about it, Urunírë wasn't. While he accepted the judgement given him, and was doing his best to learn all Námo was teaching him…the Doomsman knew the Maia falsely thought if he just obeyed Námo, he would soon be allowed to return to Aulë's service.

What the Maia didn't know, was that he was unlikely to be allowed to go back to Aulë until the next Age. While he was trying to please Námo, Urunírë was still too proud and haughty. While Námo and Vairë's Maiar would happily squash him if he got too high-and-mighty with them (had done so several times already), Námo's goal was for Urunírë to eventually not harbour any signs of that superior attitude. His goal was for the Maia to still have his pride and dignity intact, but want to willingly submit to the will of his lord out of a joy to serve him.

It was slow going, but that was not totally Urunírë's fault. It was a two-way street, both Vala and Maia supposed to work together in harmony…

The more Námo learnt about the attitudes and happenings in Valinor from the feelers he'd sent out among the population of Aman, the more concerned the Vala in charge of the dead became. While he didn't yet have enough evidence to go to Manwë, Námo knew it was only a matter of time.

*Aulë. What has you so excited?*

Námo waited patiently for an answer. It wasn't long in coming.

*I think I've finally figured out a necklace that will only block Melkor's power!*

Námo blinked, allowing none of his own misgivings to trickle through to Aulë. The Worldsmith was trying to do his best to make up to Mairon what he'd perceived he'd done. Knowing the Maia's fears, however, Námo was far less sure than any of the others that this proposed necklace was a good idea.

*What are the properties, that you think it will work any better than your last attempts?*

Námo listened carefully as Aulë gave him the qualities of the properties of the metals he'd used. He was no expert on these things, but it certainly sounded plausible, with the ways the metals worked together. However, Námo was still concerned trying to differentiate between the different powers residing in Mairon was an impossible task. He feared Melkor had violated the Maia's inner self too completely and utterly for Mairon to ever be truly free, until the taint was removed altogether.

And that wouldn't happen for a long time yet. Mairon, as well as he was doing, was still not up to it. And wasn't likely to be for a long time yet.

When Aulë finished talking, Námo spoke carefully.

*I'll talk to Mairon, and see if he wants to try it. I'll leave it to you to let the others know, especially Manwë. However, there is a possibility Mairon will not want to do this. It has to be his decision to go through.*

Aulë's voice sounded desperate.

*I hope he does. I really think it will work this time.*

Námo kept his thoughts to himself. It was up to Mairon to decide if he wanted to try this. Námo wouldn't pressure him to do anything, and would abide by his choice.

*I'll let you know what Mairon says.*

* * *

Mairon, it turned out (though Námo wasn't that surprised), was almost as unsure about this as Námo. What was surprising was how much more optimistic he was.

"Lord Aulë really thinks it will allow me access to a few of my abilities?"

Mairon tried looking up at Námo from his spot on the stool in front of the Doomsman. Námo was brushing the Maia's hair, adding in a scalp-scratch at random times. Mairon had been calm when he'd first answered his lord's call, and having his head scratched only increased that peace.

There wasn't going to be a better opportunity then now to bring up the touchy subject of Aulë, and this proposed new necklace.

Námo sighed.

"He _hopes_ it will. The warded properties of this necklace show promise. However, there is also a high chance it won't work as planned. It may still block everything, or it may block nothing."

Mairon swallowed, his hands subconsciously straying to the band of gold currently adorning his throat.

"I'm aware of that."

Námo's voice was gentle, as were his hands as he continued combing through his Maia's hair.

"I know how much you fear losing control. If you agree to go through with this, there's a high chance you might. There is no way to know if the necklace will work as Aulë hopes it will until it is on you. And if it doesn't…there are two ways it can go. Block them all, or block none of it."

Mairon's eyes darkened.

"I know. I – I want to say yes to this, but am worried about what will happen if I lose control."

Námo gave the Maia a reassuring look.

"Nothing will 'happen' to you. Not if I can help it. I am more powerful then you are, Mairon. Even the power He put into you can't compete. And with Manwë and Aulë there as well…we will ensure no one is harmed if the worse happens. You needn't' fear that. We won't hold anything that may happen against you."

Mairon sighed, complex emotions playing over his face.

"You may not, but I will. I – I don't want anything to happen."

Námo didn't want to think about how true Mairon's statement was. There was a huge risk involved in attempting this. And, if it didn't work, the chances Mairon's would regress to such an extent it would be as if the progress of the last few years…

"I-I don't know…" Mairon whispered. "Can – can I think about this?"

Námo nodded.

"Of course you can. Take as long as you need. I'll abide with whatever you decide. And don't think you must do this to please Aulë. He'll accept your decision, regardless of what you decide. There's no need to feel guilty, or like you've let him down, if you decide not to go through with it. And I will be pleased with whatever you decide, so long as it's your choice."

Mairon sighed heavily, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, closing his eyes.

"I'll let you know when I decide what I want to do, my lord."

* * *

_A few days later._

Námo looked at Mairon.

"Nervous?"

Mairon nodded, taking a deep breath, twisting his fingers together.

"Yes. Very. But also excited. If this works –"

The Maia trailed off, words being inadequate to convey what he was feeling. But Námo didn't need words to understand.

"It could just as easily not work, Mai. While Aulë seems confident, there's no way to know until you're wearing it what's going to happen. I don't want you to get your hopes up, only to have them dashed."

Mairon nodded in understanding.

"I know, but-but I can't help it. To have access to even a few of my abilities again…!"

The Maia's eyes took on a dreamy look. Námo silently sighed. He really hoped this worked.

"Okay, time to go. Aulë and Manwë are waiting for us."

Mairon instantly jumped up, taking hold of his lord's hand. Námo thought them both to the Máhanaxar. They'd decided that was the best place to do this, especially with Mairon's fear that the dark powers would try and take over when unchecked. The Máhanaxar inexplicably held a power of its own that had nothing to do with those who sat in judgment there. Even Manwë did not fully understand it, and had been forced to conclude they probably never would. Regardless, this innate power would be useful if this went south.

In addition, the Máhanaxar was also private. Though any could came visit it at will, not many did. And Manwë had made sure no one was going to be around while they were there. While he'd prepared Mairon as best he could, Námo knew, if this didn't work, the Maia would be devastated. And, if that scenario happened, the Doomsman didn't want anyone else around to witness the aftermath.

Mairon had had enough humiliation in his life.

Aulë and Manwë were standing in the middle of the ring when they arrived. Looking at them, Manwë smiled at Mairon's excitement; Aulë just looked worried. Námo knew the Smith was as concerned about what would happen if this didn't work as he was. Maybe even more so, as he was the one to have made the new necklace.

"Shall we see if this works then?"

Manwë wasted no time getting to the point. The other three nodded, and Aulë produced the necklace. Unsurprisingly, it looked identical to the one Mairon was currently wearing. Looking around at the other two Valar, Aulë raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I'll take it off?"

Receiving a nod from Manwë, the Smith reached for the object around Mairon's neck. The Maia allowed the Smith access. The necklace opened with a soft 'click' as soon as Aulë took hold of it. Wasting no time, he replaced it with the other one, which locked with another 'click'. Removing his hand, Aulë looked around at them, biting his lip.

"Now, time for the true test. Mairon, can you try summoning some fire? Nothing big, just a small flame will suffice."

The Maia nodded; he was quivering with tension and excitement. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and concentrated. At first, nothing happened. Then, a flicker of flame shot up from Mairon's hand. Opening his eyes, the Maia stared captivated at the flame.

"It works!"

Mairon gave a laugh of pure delight, before throwing himself at Aulë. The Smith suddenly found himself with an armful of hysterical Maia, who was thanking him over and over. Looking at the other two with bemusement, the Smith gave Mairon an awkward hug.

"I'm glad it works. I was worried that…"

He got no further. The Maia he was hugging suddenly went dead still, his eyes becoming unfocussed. Only Aulë's arm kept him from toppling to the ground as every muscle in his body went lax. Námo, worry and fear spiking, took a step towards them. However, before he could do anything, he had to duck as a wave of fire appeared out of nowhere. Manwë's startled cry let him know the other Vala hadn't been so fortunate as to move out of the way, but Námo didn't look at him. He had eyes only for his Maia.

Mairon stood in front of Aulë. His hands were raised slightly, eyes glassy and unfocussed. Aulë's uneasy gaze flickered from the Mairon to Námo, and back again. Placing one hand on the Maia's shoulder, using the other to gently lower the raised hands, Námo spoke softly.

"Mairon? Are you okay? Mairon!"

At first, he received no response. Then, the Maia turned to face his lord, allowing Námo to see his face. What he saw made him gasp in shock and horror. The Maia's normally golden eyes were almost pure black, seeming to look right through him. Then, Mairon blinked, his eyes returning to their normal gold for a mere second.

But that second was enough for Námo to realise what was happening. The pure terror in his Maia's gaze told him all he needed to know.

"Manwë, seal the area! Aulë, help me!"

Before either Valar could speak, a dark laugh filled the Máhanaxar, echoing eerily off the psychic walls Manwë had instantly thrown up at Námo's command. Before Námo could react, Mairon – or the _thing _that now had control of Mairon – pushed him away. The force of the shove was tremendous, sending the Vala stumbling back before he could stop himself.

Mairon turned to face the Vala head on. His eyes had returned to their all-black state, their shadowed depths deepening to such an extent that nothing could be seen or read in them. A smirk graced his lips, but his nose was wrinkled in disgust.

"You think you can stop _me_, oh sodden-witted one? You take such delight in your foreknowledge, but it won't save you, nor this one that you profess to love. He is _mine_,and always shall be."

The words were spoken with Mairon's mouth, but it wasn't Mairon's voice that was used. Instead, it was a voice Námo and the others present were all too familiar with.

"Morgoth." Manwë stated.

Mairon's head swivelled to look at Manwë, the smirk changing into a grin. Then the rest of the Maia's body turned, as if his neck was an axle, so he was facing the king of the Valar.

"Ah. Muindor. It's been too long. Did you _really _think you'd seen the last of me?"

Manwë's gaze hardened. "Leave him be, Morgoth. Your fight is with us, not our Maiar."

"Wrong." Melkor snarled. "This little one is _mine_. He came to me for protection, and is therefore mine to do with as I please. Nothing you can do will change that."

"You're wrong, Morgoth. It is not _Atar_'_s _will that you succeed."

At the mention of Ilúvatar, Mairon's stolen countenance darkened even further. Snarling loudly, he raised his hands, sending a fireball screaming through the air towards Manwë. Manwë leapt out of the way, the ball exploding against the wall of the Máhanaxar, sending flames every direction.

"It's pointless, Morgoth! Stop this now!" Manwë cried.

Melkor narrowed Mairon's eyes, sending three more fireballs towards the Elder King in quick succession. Manwë ducked out of the way, though the last one did manage to set the edge of his robe on fire. Manwë threw it off before the flames were able to hurt him, leaving him in just his under-tunic and leggings.

*Manwë, we must stop this.* The call came from Námo, who'd stayed out of Melkor's direct line of sight since being thrown back. *Mairon's becoming weaker by the second. I can barely feeling him through our bond.*

Manwë pursed his lips. *I know. Are you ready?*

No words, but affirmation floated through the bond between Námo and his brother. When the next fire-ball came, instead of ducking away from it, Manwë dipped under it so that he was closer to Mairon. Calling forth the full strength of the power their father had given him, he held out his hands, freezing Mairon's fana in place.

The same laugh that'd heralded the Evil One's arrival rang through the Máhanaxar once again as Mairon's head was thrown backwards.

"Very clever, Brother mine. But not clever enough."

Instantly, the shadows in Mairon's eyes retreated just enough so that some gold was shining through. Before any of the Valar could react, the Maia began screaming. It was _Mairon _screaming, not Melkor, that much was clear. The scream was the same one that had rung in this very place years before when Mairon was first brought for judgement.

A few seconds later, Mairon began convulsing violently. His head rocked back and forth, threatening to snap his neck at any moment.

"Námo, now!" Manwë called out, grunting as he struggled to keep Mairon's fana still.

Not waiting another second, Námo rushed forward, gathering his child into his arms.

"Aulë! Come here and hold him!"

The Doomsman looked up at the Blacksmith as Mairon continued convulsing in his arms. The Smith's eyes were wide, and he hadn't moved from where he'd been when Melkor had first attacked. When Námo caught his gaze, he shook his head.

"Aulë!" Námo called again, grunting as a rather hard tremor caused Mairon's head to hit his chin. "NOW! We're losing him!"

That got Aulë moving. Rushing over, he knelt in front of Námo and Mairon. Holding out his arms, he took Mairon from Námo, cradling him close.

Straightening up, Námo took a moment to summon the full force of his power, allowing his normal veil to melt away. Feeling ready, Námo knelt to face the shaking body of the Maia. Placing both hands on Mairon's brow, the Doomsman spoke.

"BE GONE, EVIL ONE."

The Elder King instinctively knew Námo was not talking to Mairon, but rather, to the power inside of him. Manwë watched in awe as his younger brother's silver eyes and facial markings glowed with the force of his power, until he was almost too bright to look at. The air around him alighted with a silvery fire, as Námo brought forth a part of the innate power all the Valar possessed.

A power not dissimilar to what Melkor had forced on Mairon, though Námo's power was a lot purer. Manwë could feel the dark power residing in Mairon resist it. Seething and angry, snarling with rage and hate, it fought against both the power of the necklace, and Námo's will.

Against the first one, it might have prevailed, given enough time. While some of the power was blocked, what remained was still strong enough to potentially cause trouble. However, it didn't have a hope of resisting the Doomsman as well. Not in its weakened state. Námo was very powerful. Manwë had always known this; had long suspected his powers run even deeper than any of them realised. While Námo thought otherwise, Manwë had never believed the Doomsman was the least powerful of the Aratar.

What he was witnessing right now proved that to him.

Screeching in defeat and anger at Námo's implacable will, the dark aura surrounding the Maia abruptly faded. His eyes returned to their normal gold, as Melkor's influence retreated into his soul. The instant it was gone, the small Maia stirred, his eyes slowly refocussing on his surroundings. Blinking up at his lord, whose appearance was returning to normal (though his eyes still glowed with power, as he hadn't yet veiled them), Mairon swallowed.

"It happened, didn't it?"

His voice was raspy. Námo bowed his head.

"It tried to. But I made you a promise, and I don't break promises. Come here, my Little One."

Námo drew Mairon into his embrace. The Maia buried himself as close to Námo as he could, wrapping his arms around him. Tears quickly soaked the Vala's tunic, spreading a dark splotch along his shoulder. Námo hugged him close, looking at a grief-stricken Aulë over his youngest's head. The Smith looked close to tears.

"This isn't your fault, Aulë." Námo attempted to lessen the damage that was occurring all around him, while committing most of his focus to his youngest. "We thought something like this might happen. None of us blame you, least of all Mairon."

At those words, Mairon lifted his head from Námo's shoulder. Tears still coursed down his cheeks, even as he tried wiping them away.

"I-It wasn't your fault, Lord Aulë. Y-you were just trying to help me. You're _all_ trying to help me. D-don't blame yourself." He looked down, the tears coming more heavily. "It's not your fault I-I'm just too-too broken for h-help."

Námo tightened his embrace.

"That is _not _true, Mairon. You're not broke, and you're also not beyond help. We've been over this many times before."

His words were gentle, free from condemnation or judgement of any sort. However, Mairon flinched as he said them, in a way he hadn't done for months. Before Námo could reassure him, the Maia spoke.

"His power – it-it is trying to take over again. It – it _did _take over, for a short time. I know it did. I know I lost control, that I'm not strong enough to resist it. I've never been strong enough to resist it. I've never been strong enough to resist _anything_."

Mairon ducked his head back down, tears streaming down his cheeks. Looking up at Námo after a long moment, the Maia swallowed.

"My lord, I-I want the old necklace back. Please. I don't want to have to worry that he's going to-to…"

While he was putting on a brave face, as shock started to set in, Mairon's demeanour crumbled even further. Burying his face in Námo's neck, the Maia let out a broken sob.

"Please…I-I know I'm not worthy, but please. I want…want to stay with you. Please don't send me away. Please. I promise I will wear it forever, never take it off. Please, don't send me away. I will do anything. Anything…"

Námo tightened his hold on him. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, Námo sent as much peace as possible through their bond.

"Hush Mairon. Peace, my Little One. No one is sending you away, nor shall anyone take you from me. Remember what I swore to you? 'Thy cares and concerns, worries and fears, shall be as mine own. I will hold to thee and love thee as thou deserve, and thou shalt be as one of mine.'" Námo pressed another kiss to Mairon's forehead.

"You're mine still, Mairon. Nothing has changed that. Nor will anything _ever _change that. What happened today was no failing on your part. But you shall have the old necklace back if that's what you wish."

Mairon tears had slowed down while he'd talked, helped in great part by the continued reassurances of his lord. However, he stayed tucked close to Námo, refusing to look at anyone else.

"Yes, please." He whispered. "I – I'd like it back."

"Very well, my Little One." Námo's voice was just as quiet. "If that's what you want. Aulë. You heard Mairon."

The Smith nodded. However, as he came closer to exchange the necklaces once more, Mairon shrunk away from him, breath stuttering. Aulë halted, his gaze breaking even more at the sight.

"It might be better if I do it." Námo's voice was quiet, yet authoritative, as he held out his hands for the old necklace. Aulë placed it there before backing off, trying not to let his devastation show too much.

Námo's hands were strong but gentle as he changed the necklace back to the original. Mairon's entire body slumped in relief when the old one locked around his neck once more. Reaching up, he grasped it with both hands, holding it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He tugged on it a few times, testing the locking mechanism to make sure it held. When he was sure of it, he slumped even further, curling around himself, not letting go of the necklace.

"Thank you." He whispered, tears evident in his voice.

Aulë looked at the second necklace clutched in his hands and snarled. He was all ready to hurl it across the Ring, even had his arm drawn back prepared to throw. Then, a gentle hand landed on his arm.

"What will you gain by doing that?"

Aulë glared at his King rebelliously.

"It will make me feel better. Seeing I can't throw _Him_ across the Ring."

Manwë closed his eyes briefly. His emotional and mental anguish was written all over his face.

"Maybe so, but throwing that necklace will benefit no one else in any way. By losing your temper, you're letting Him win."

Realising Manwë had a point, the Smith forced himself to calm down. When his anger was no longer white hot, Aulë turned to look at Námo and Mairon. His fellow Vala was sitting on the ground, cradling a crying Mairon, hushing him softly. Looking back at Manwë, the Smith swallowed.

"It shouldn't have happened that way. I don't know what went wrong. The signs were so promising..."

Manwë bowed his own head.

"No. But don't blame yourself, my brother. We all knew there was a risk involved. We'll just have to think up something else."

Aulë looked at the still sobbing Maia. His expression was one of grief and self-loathing.

"But I – I did this to him…"

Manwë shook his head firmly.

"No, you didn't. You were just trying to help him. We all are. Mairon knew all the risks involved with doing this and accepted them. But…he's more damaged than anyone else we have ever had to deal with. There are bound to be setbacks. But Mairon is strong; he'll pull through. Especially with our love and support."

Aulë's shoulders drooped.

"What will I do next? I – don't know if it's worth trying to make any more necklaces. I don't want to put Mairon through this again."

Manwë shook his head.

"Neither do I. Just leave it, for now. _Atar_ doesn't want Mairon to have access to his powers just yet. That is why this didn't work. I will let you know if you should have another go, and when."

Aulë sighed.

"Okay."

Their conversation was halted as Námo spoke to them in ósanwe.

*I'm taking Mairon back to Mandos.*

Both Valar nodded, before Námo switched to the private frequency he shared with Manwë, so Aulë would not hear what he had to say.

*This has shaken him greatly. Worse than if it hadn't worked. I fear his progress has suffered a severe set-back.*

Manwë closed his eyes in pain.

*What will be, will be. Keep me informed.*

Námo mentally nodded, before fading from view, Mairon still in his embrace. It wasn't long before Aulë also took his leave, taking the useless necklace with him to be melted down. Left alone in the Máhanaxar, Manwë looked to the sky, tears he'd held back when his younger brothers were there trickling down his face.

*Atar, what do we do?*

* * *

**CoffeRanger basically co-authored this chapter, so Melkor being even more evil is a result of team effort! Bring on the angst! *author hides***


	28. Enter Marta

**Guess who has wifi back!**

* * *

**Chapter 28: Enter Marta **

Yavanna looked over at her friend with concern.

"How is he?"

Vairë grimaced, putting her teacup down with a sigh.

"Not good. It's like he's emotionally regressed by years, though he's not scared of us like he was back then. However, he hardly responds to anything we say or do. He still does his duties, but he carries them out automatically, without putting any real thought into it. We only get one or two-word sentences out of him, and then only when he decides to speak. The rest of the time, he drifts around after me or Námo, not seeming to register anything that happens unless prompted to."

Varda frowned.

"It's that bad?"

Vairë nodded at the Star Queen. The three of them were having afternoon tea in Yavanna's garden.

"Yes. He's also returned to sleeping with us, and spends the nights clinging to Námo." The Weaver sighed heavily. "And he was going so well, more frequently forgoing sleeping by himself in his room to sleeping in the communal sleeping hall. Something he'd only just started doing. Like I said, his emotional state has regressed, and the little self-confidence he had developed seems to be gone."

Varda looked pensive.

"Is he likely to get over it? What does Irmo think?"

Vairë shrugged.

"My brother-in-law doesn't have an answer for what is happening. It's possible, with time, that Mairon will recover from this. However, it has already been some weeks, and there is still no sign of improvement."

"We're all at a loss what to do to help him."

The Valië of plants and earth looked pensive herself when she heard this.

"Aulë will be even more broken-hearted if he hears this. He blames himself for what happened. No matter how many times I tell him otherwise, he's determined this is all his fault."

Vairë sighed again.

"It's no one's fault. Except Melkor. His actions put us in this position. But Aulë is the last person to blame for any of this."

"That's what I keep telling him." Yavanna said wearily, tracing the delicate patterned leaves on the china tea cup with one finger. "But he can't seem to accept it. He still loves Mairon dearly; and feels he's failed him yet again."

Varda shook her head.

"We've all failed him. I know Manwë still feels guilty for the Darkening, and all that sprang from it. Much of Mairon's suffering also results from his decisions. While Melkor violated him before we locked him up in Mandos, from what we saw in Mairon's memories at the Trial, it was worse when he went back."

Yavanna closed her eyes in pain, tightening her grip on her tea cup. Vairë just nodded sadly in agreement. There was silence for a while, as the Valiër sat, each lost in their thoughts. Vairë absently stroked one of Yavanna's cats who had seized the first opportunity presented to jump into her lap, and was now curled up, purring.

Varda, who'd been careful to keep her legs folded in such a way that no cat would be able to climb onto her, suddenly yelped and kicked out.

"Ow! That's my ankle, you little terror. Don't you dare bite it! Yavanna, why are your cats such bullies?"

The Valië shrugged.

"They just like attention. Some more than others. Take Culuina for example" she gestured to a large ginger cat rubbing against her legs. "He loves attention; and is the sweetest natured thing you'll find. By contrast, one of the young ones seems to hate everyone and everything. She doesn't even like me; I've been scratched by her twice. They are the extreme ends of the scale; most of the others fall somewhere in between."

Vairë smiled at the put-out look on Varda's face.

"I like cats."

Varda glared at the furry offender who'd bitten her. He was sitting in huff nearby with his back to her, carefully licking his paw.

"I don't know about liking them, but I definitely don't like _that_ one."

Yavanna shook her head in bemusement.

"I think the feeling might be mutual. Cats are fickle animals. They see us as existing solely to serve their whims, and make their displeasure felt if they feel their high standards are not being maintained."

Varda continued glaring at the cat. Who was ignoring them all, carefully washing his paw.

"I'll give him not maintaining high standards. Vairë, why are you grinning?"

Vairë smiled serenely at her.

"I was just thinking about what a wonderful tapestry this tea party will make."

Varda didn't look happy.

"Don't you dare depict me getting bitten by a _cat_."

Vairë shrugged.

"I record all the events in the history of Arda. _All _of them. That's what I was created to do. Though, I will try and do it in a way that won't embarrass you. Too much." Vairë's grin was wicked. "Though, come to think of it, I don't think I've got an embarrassing one of you in my personal collection. Yet."

Varda glared.

"So long as no one ever has to see it."

Vairë grinned again.

"Where would the fun be in that? You being bitten by a cat would have pride of place in my collection. Right next to the one of Námo falling into Ulmo's lake."

Yavanna snorted.

"I remember that. To this day, I don't know how he managed it."

Vairë smiled.

"He still insists Irmo pushed him, whenever the subject comes up. I have another tapestry hanging next to it of Irmo standing by the lake, dripping wet, looking ready to murder someone." Now it was Varda's turn to snort, remembering the same scene in real life. Vairë smiled smugly at her. "I still think it was a rather ingenious idea of Námo's to pull Irmo in with him. Having them both dripping wet makes more interesting tapestries."

The Valiër sat in a contemplative silence. The grey cat continued purring on Vairë's lap; the Valië found both the sound and vibrations from the purrs to be very soothing. And stroking the animal was also calming. Ideally, she wondered if Mairon would find it relaxing. He had been so tense since the necklace incident…

Vairë suddenly froze. The other two, who'd been discussing what other possible embarrassing situations Vairë might have captured in her tapestries, now looked at her in concern.

"Vairë, what's wrong?"

The Weaver looked at Varda.

"Nothing. I'm just wondering…stroking this cat while we've been talking has helped calm my mind. Her purrs are very soothing. I'm wondering…if interacting with your cats will help Mairon?"

Vairë addressed this question at Yavanna, but both Yavanna and Varda looked thoughtfully. Varda spoke first.

"That might work, but does Mairon like cats? What if he's like me?"

Yavanna glared.

"No one is like you. I still don't know why you don't like my cats."

Sensing an argument on the verge of brewing, Vairë intervened.

"I happen to know for a fact he likes them. He said as much himself once. Having him spend some time with them may help him come out of this depressed and listless state he's gone into."

Varda looked thoughtful.

"It might work, if he really does like cats."

Yavanna glared at her, but wisely said nothing. To forestall any arguments developing, Vairë quickly spoke up.

"Well, shall I go and see if he wants to come out and play with the cats?"

* * *

Yavanna and Vairë watched the copper-haired Maia play with the cats. Or rather, watched him sit there and be engulfed by them. Varda had had to leave, but they'd promised to inform her how Mairon's 'cat play-date' went.

So far, it seemed to be going very well. Vairë smiled as one of the cats rubbed its head on Mairon's chin until he gave it attention. Once he started stroking it, the cat (who was large, coloured tan, black and white, with long fluffy fur covering her nose to tail) flopped onto his lap with a contented purr Vairë could hear from where she sat. Noting with amusement all the other cats kept a respectable distance from this one, Vairë smiled at Yavanna. The other Valië was momentarily distracted by the large ginger cat that had not left her lap.

"Mairon seems to have made a new friend."

Yavanna looked up. When she saw what was happening, her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.

"No way."

Vairë gave her friend a questioning look.

"What does that mean?"

Yavanna still looked stunned.

"That cat that's fawning all over Mairon? She's the one who hates everyone and everything. I can't believe it. She_ hates_ people!"

Vairë's own eyes widened. Looking back at the fluffy cat, who was happily rubbing herself all over Mairon, the Valië observed the pair. The Maia was concentrating on scratching the cat behind her ears; both Valiër could hear the deep purrs of contentment from here, as the cat shamelessly begged for more.

"She seems to like Mairon well enough."

Yavanna shook her head, blinking a few times.

"So it seems. I can't believe it. She has _never_ done that to _anyone_."

Vairë smiled.

"Maybe she was just waiting for the right person."

Yavanna blinked.

"Maybe she was. I can't believe it."

Yavanna and Vairë continued watching Mairon. Most of the other cats had drifted away when this one had staked her claim on the Maia, though a few still hung around, hoping for some attention. However, Mairon only had eyes for one. He was currently cradling her to his chest; his face was buried in her thick fur. Her purrs of contentment hadn't stopped, and the calm aura that settled over Mairon since he'd arrived was also impossible to ignore. Looking at her friend, Vairë smiled.

"I haven't seen him this calm since before the Fail."

Yavanna slowly smiled back.

"I still can't believe_ that_ cat has decided she likes him. Even I will admit she's an evil little shit."

Vairë laughed.

"I never thought I'd hear you say _that_ about one of your creations."

Yavanna shook her head.

"I never thought I'd be scratched twice, on two separate occasions, by one of my own creations."

Vairë's eyes went big.

"What caused that to happen?"

Yavanna scowled.

"To this day, I have no idea. I always thought that was just her. But seeing her with Mairon…" a gleam suddenly appeared in the Earth Queen's eyes. "Vairë. Seeing Mairon likes her so much, and she likes him, what would you say to me giving her to him? Or at least allowing her to go with him?"

The Valiër looked at each other. Vairë spoke first.

"You would be willing to give her away?"

Yavanna grinned.

"First rule of being with cats; they own you. No matter what you might think, we exist merely to serve their every whim. But yes, Mairon can have her. On one condition."

Vairë raised an eyebrow. Yavanna gave a wicked grin.

"I get to see Námo's face when he hears about it. And you give me the tapestry you make of the event to hang up in my house."

Vairë laughed, even as she looked chagrined.

"I hadn't even given that a thought. This is going to be interesting. While I'm okay with it, Mairon is not mine. Námo and I decided a long time ago we both had to agree on something for it to happen in the common living spaces."

Both looked at the smiling Maia, and the happily purring cat he was besotted with. Vairë sighed.

"Well, shall I call him then?"

Yavanna's grin was feral.

"Don't let me stop you."

* * *

Námo looked at his wife with a raised eyebrow when he arrived in Yavanna's gardens. Not that anyone could see that; his expression was masked as usual.

"You called, my dear?"

Vairë nodded towards Mairon.

"Yes. Look."

Námo looked. And blinked. It took him a moment to understand what was going on, but when he did, his lips twitched.

"Mairon's smiling. He hasn't smiled in far too long."

Vairë nodded.

"I know. He's fallen in love with that cat, and her with him. Given Yavanna told me she generally hates people, I'd say she's adopted him."

Námo's eyes fastened on his wife. Though his aura showed he was happy Mairon was smiling, Yavanna noticed there was a darker undertone to it.

"What are you not saying, my dear?"

Vairë looked smug. Yavanna watched the Doomsman with bated breath.

"Yavanna said Mairon can keep her. It seems we may have a cat coming to live with us, my love."

Yavanna had the intense satisfaction of seeing the normally stoic and grim Vala visibly pale.

"Coming to live with us? A _cat_ in my Halls?"

Vairë nodded.

"Yes. Look at them, my love. Mairon is _smiling_. He hasn't smiled in weeks. Not since before the necklace incident."

The Doomsman schooled his expression again, before going back to watching the Maia. Námo carefully observed the awed and caring way Mairon handled the cat, and the way she rubbed herself all over him. He could hear her happy purring from here. Then, Mairon suddenly giggled.

All three Valar were stunned into silence at the sweet, joyful sound. After a few stunned moments, Námo looked back at the Valiër. Specifically, Vairë.

"It seems our family has a new addition. On the condition Mairon looks after her himself. I hope she isn't going to be too much trouble. Fëanor and his sons are bad enough without having a ball of fur wreaking havoc."

Vairë wisely kept silent about what Yavanna had said regarding this particular cat not liking people. The Earth Queen, however, did not.

"Seeing that cat hates everyone but Mairon, have fun with that."

Námo gave her a dignified, yet still scathing, look.

"Traitor."

Yavanna wasn't the least intimidated.

"I did nothing. The cat adopted him. As I said to Vairë, a cat will not do anything it doesn't want to. They have a mind of their own; we exist solely to serve their whims."

Námo's voice betrayed pure sarcasm.

"Oh joy. Just what I need."

Yavanna grinned, Vairë's lips merely twitched upwards as she addressed her husband.

"You'd better tell him he can keep her, dear. You're his lord. Mairon must know you're okay with this, or he'll never agree to keeping her with him. And I really feel he needs her right now."

Námo sighed.

"I know. He gave his trust and devotion to me a long time ago. Formally pledging himself to me was the physical manifestation of what has been in his heart from almost the beginning."

Leaving the Valiër sitting there, Námo walked over to his Maia. The cat hissed at him as he approached, and Námo started at noticing her eyes didn't match. One was bright blue, while the other was a deep green.

"What's up with her eyes?"

The cat glared at him as Yavanna come over.

"Nothing's up with them. She was born that way. It's rare, but some cats end up with two different coloured eyes. I don't know why."

The cat hissed again as Námo came closer, but Mairon quickly soothed her. Though she continued glaring at Námo as the Vala knelt, she did nothing else. The Maia clutched her, looking at Námo with questioning and uncertain eyes. Even since the necklace incident, he'd lost all confidence in himself. Námo reached out to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind one ear, giving the Maia a loving look.

"Having fun, my little one?"

Mairon hesitantly nodded. Glancing at the cat (who was still glaring at him), Námo asked a question.

"What's her name?"

Mairon's answer was below a whisper.

"I don't know."

Yavanna spoke softly, smiling at them both.

"She doesn't have one. You can name her, if you would like?"

Mairon gave no verbal response to that, though his eyes flickered briefly to look at the Earth Queen. Looking back at the cat, Mairon's eyes then rose to meet those of his lord.

"Will – will I be allowed to visit her again?"

Námo gave Yavanna a knowing look. The Valië came over and knelt on Mairon's other side, smiling at him.

"You can visit as often as you want. You can even take her with you if you would like. We have already bullied Námo into agreeing to have her live in Mandos with you."

Mairon's head shot up, and he stared at Yavanna in shock. Then, he looked at his lord, whose expression was studiously blank, and swallowed.

"Is – is that true, my lord?"

Námo nodded.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. However, the final decision is mine. And I have decided you may keep her. On the condition you look after her yourself, clean up after her, and keep her out of trouble. No one else will help you with this. If you bring her back with you, her care will be solely your responsibility."

Mairon looked down at the cat for a long moment, before turning to Yavanna.

"How long will she live? She's mortal, isn't she?"

Yavanna nodded.

"Yes, she is. However, so long as you look after her well, she should survive for a few _yéni _yet. She's only two solar years old, practically a kitten still, and animals here live much longer than their counterparts on Middle Earth proper. So, what will you name her?"

Deep in thought, Mairon continued cuddling the cat. Finally, he gave Námo a watery smile.

"Her full name is Martattëa. But I will call her Marta for short."

Námo smiled back. Second Chance. A fitting name that said a lot about Mairon's current state-of-mind.

"Marta. I like it. Now, would you like to stay here and play with her some more, or are you ready to take her home?"

* * *

**I picture Marta as being a Norwegian Forest Cat.**


	29. Marta in Mandos

**Chapter 29: Marta in Mandos**

"That cat hates me."

Vairë barely looked up from her work at the sound of her husband's voice. Her expression was inscrutable.

"What makes you say that, my dear?"

Námo gave her a half-hearted glare. Half-hearted, because he also looked mildly worried.

"She stalks me. She lays in wait around corners – and then attacks when I appear. How she knows exactly where I'll be, I have no idea. But she manages it at least once a day. More often twice."

Vairë hid her amusement by tilting her head further down, pretending to need to pay close attention to where the next stitch was going.

"Have you spoken to Mairon about this?"

Námo sighed, dropping down to sit next to her.

"No. It's not his fault. He's looking after Marta perfectly, but she manages to escape him at times. It's then she stalks me. When he finds her, he's very apologetic, and polite. Too polite. I'm afraid, if I bring this up with him, it will do more harm than good to his recovery. He's finally began making progress again since she's been here. I don't want to risk jeopardising that."

Vairë nodded in understanding.

"No, we certainly don't. We've learnt it doesn't take much to cause Mairon to backslide in his healing. Having Marta around has been nothing but good for him. I don't know how we would've been able to convince him to move back into his own room otherwise. But what are you going to do about Marta, if you aren't going to take up the problem with Mairon?"

Námo looked mournful.

"There's nothing I can do. Except try and avoid walking around corners wherever possible."

Vairë put a consoling arm around him.

"You're a good man, my dear. Willing to put up with Marta's dislike of you for Mairon's sake. I don't know if anyone else would handle it as graciously as you are."

Námo sighed again, putting his own arm around Vairë.

"Which brings me to my other problem."

Vairë raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Care to share?"

Námo nodded.

"Urunírë."

"What about Urunírë? Last I heard, he was going well."

"And he is. At least, as well as can be expected."

"Then, what's the problem?"

Námo sobered even more.

"I think I'm starting to get to the root of what caused some of his issues. And, I don't like what I am finding out."

Vairë looked at him in concern.

"Is it bad?"

Námo looked grim.

"Only time will tell. But, the more I find out, the more I understand a lot of things that have happened over the last few Ages regarding the Maiar."

Now Vairë looked very worried.

"What about ours? Is this going to affect them?"

Námo shook his head, his expression softening.

"It shouldn't. Because of the way we treat them, they have no need to resort to what Urunírë has. Mairon isn't the only one currently in my care to have a distorted sense of self-worth. Or to feel that others have given up on them because they weren't good enough."

Vairë blinked.

"Oh dear. That sounds bad."

Námo nodded.

"As I said, only time will tell how bad. But that's enough about things for now. What are you knitting? You rarely knit. It's not your thing."

Vairë looked at the pile of burgundy-and-gold dyed wool in her lap with a small smile.

"I'm making a little coat for Marta."

Now it was Námo's turn to blink.

"I see. Any particular reason?"

Vairë smiled.

"I want to. Do you know how many times I've found both her and Mairon curled up in front of a fire together? While Mairon has plenty of warm clothes, I can't help thinking Marta must feel left out."

Námo's tone was wry.

"She's a _cat_. Cats don't wear clothes; they aren't _designed_ to wear clothes. I highly doubt she is feeling left out because everyone else in Mandos does."

Vairë smiled serenely at her knitting.

"Maybe so, but I'm doing this for Mairon more than Marta. That's why it's in his favourite colours. He said something to me the other day about how he thinks Marta gets cold sometimes. I don't know if he was serious, but I decided making her a little coat of her own would still be a nice thing to do."

Námo looked resigned.

"Are you going to decorate it with sparkles?"

Vairë smiled at his dejection.

"No. She would just pull them all off. The coat will be made of dyed wool, nothing else. You are the only one to have the honour of millions of sparkles decorating every stitch you wear, my darling."

Vairë laughed at Námo's expression, before giving him a loving kiss on the cheek.

"Don't look so glum. You know you secretly love all that beadwork and embroidery. With your refusal to wear any colour other than black, dark blue, or dark purple, I have to lighten your outfits up somehow."

Námo looked impertinent.

"What's wrong with wearing dark colours? I like dark colours; it's what both the elves and fëar are used to seeing me in. If I turned up wearing anything else, I'd send half the living population of Valinor into my Halls from shock. I can't risk that happening. The paperwork alone would kill me."

Vairë smiled in amusement.

"And what about the fëar? How would they react?"

Námo looked mournful.

"They'd probably just laugh. Dying seems to make them lose any respect they might once have had for me."

Vairë was still smiling, though her eyes had softened.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Námo just shrugged, avoiding looking in her eyes.

"Death is an unnatural state for the Firstborn, Vairë. While I rejoice that, by the time they leave Mandos, they're no longer scared of me, I still grieve they had to come in the first place."

Vairë nodded in understanding. She knew the attitude of the living Children towards her husband pained him, though he never showed it. He loved them just as much as any other Valar, but his role as Doomsman and Judge didn't allow him to show it very often. Among the fëar, he had no such barriers. For those whom came to his Halls, he was both Doomsman and Judge, yet he was also Consoler and Comforter. He was a healer of the fëa, tasked by Eru himself with caring for the souls of those Mirroanwi who found themselves unhoused for a time.

Whether it was looking after the elves until they were ready to be re-embodied, or shepherding the mortals beyond the Circles of the World, Námo's job was very important, perhaps second only to Manwë's. Yet, this importance went by unnoticed and unappreciated by the vast majority. Though that was starting to change, as more and more elves who had been under his care were reborn. They remembered the unconditional love, and infinite patience, he'd shown them while in his Halls, and so didn't fear his grim exterior.

In fact, some of the bolder (or stupider) ones had even been known to tease him about the 'doom-and-gloom' look. Something Vairë suspected they'd picked up from Irmo during their stay in Lórien after being re-embodied. They loved him, with some even visiting him in Valmar from time to time.

The Halls of Mandos were all but impossible to find unless you had a personal invitation from its Lord or Lady.

Seeing the pensive and depressed look on the face of her Beloved, Vairë put down her knitting to wrap both arms around him.

"I know you grieve for those Eldar who land in your Halls, dear, but you do everything you can to help them while they are there. They couldn't be in better hands. The same is true for those Maiar whom have recently found themselves here. I know you will do the right thing by both Mairon and Urunírë. No matter what the 'right' thing turns out to be, you will be there to help, encourage, and comfort them every step of the way. That is, after all, what _Atar_ designed you to do."

Námo hugged her back, closing his eyes with a sigh as tension bled out of him. No matter how down he felt, hugging his Beloved always made him feel better.

"I know. But that doesn't make my job any easier."

* * *

"Mairon, my dear. Where's Marta? I have something for her."

The copper-haired Maia looked up in surprise as Lady Vairë appeared, hastily inclining his head to her in greeting. The Valië gave him a warm smile, even as she glanced around.

"So, where is she?"

Mairon frowned as he too, checked the room.

"I swear she was here a minute ago. I'm sorry, my lady. She keeps running off for some reason. I don't know how…"

Before he could say anymore, an odd shimmer in the air announced the arrival of Lord Námo. The Vala was holding a hissing ball of fur at arm's length, which he unceremoniously dropped into Mairon's lap.

Mairon immediately clutched Marta and sat there, to stunned to even speak. Vairë started laughing hysterically at the look on her Beloved's face, going over to give him a hug. Námo, however, wasn't amused.

"She was laid in wait to ambush me. But I was forewarned, and ambushed her first." The Vala looked very pleased with himself. "That should teach you, you evil fur ball. You're not the only one who can play at this game."

Mairon bit his lip, looking down at his cat with worry as he clutched her tighter.

"W-What did she do?"

The Vala looked at him with a gentler expression.

"What she always does. Make my life hell. That cat hates me for some reason." Mairon hunched his shoulders in as he clutched Marta, suddenly fearing she would be taken away from him. Námo noticed, and sighed. "It's not your fault, Mairon. And I'm not sending her away. However, I'm also not going to just sit back and let her terrorise me. Two can play at her little game."

Vairë smiled innocently.

"What's the current score?"

Námo glared at his wife's innocent expression. She was unaffected by it, merely continuing to smile serenely at him.

"I don't know. But I won this round. Why are you here, my dear?"

In answer, Vairë turned back to Mairon with a smile.

"I finished Marta's present, and thought to give it to her. Now she is here…" The Valië pulled a wrapped parcel out of her basket, handing it to Mairon. "You can both tell me what you think."

Mairon took the parcel with an uncertain look on his face, but Vairë's smile helped settle him. He wasn't too upset by Námo's earlier reaction either. He knew the Vala wouldn't do anything to hurt them, but he really didn't like the way Marta treated him. He was trying to convince her not too, but she continued doing it. Heedless of anything he did.

Marta was still on his lap. She'd stopped glaring at Námo long enough to stick her nose into the parcel as he unwrapped it. Mairon absently scratched behind her ear, before removing the last of the paper hiding the gift. It took him a moment to realise what it was, but when he did, he smiled.

"A coat! Marta, look. Lady Vairë made you a little coat!"

Mairon held it out to the cat, who examined it loftily. To Námo's eyes, she didn't look impressed.

"And it's in my colours as well! We'll match."

Marta looked even less impressed at that, not that Mairon paid much attention, being too busy trying to put it on her. Vairë went to help him. Námo watched, a neutral expression on his face. Marta gave him a baleful look as she was manhandled into the coat, which he returned with impassiveness.

He refused to let a _cat_ unsettle him anymore than she already had.

He tried not to let onto Mairon just how much her behaviour bothered him. She was good for the Maia, and that was all that really mattered.

"There! Don't you look adorable?"

The cat didn't look at all impressed to be called adorable, but Vairë ignored that. Fluffy bits of fur stuck out the edges of the coat, and her tail was standing straight up. She did look somewhat adorable, Námo admitted to himself. It was hard seeing her as the Ankle Terroriser she was in this moment. Mairon smiled.

"Thank you for the gift, my lady. May I – may I hug you?"

Vairë smiled, opening her arms.

"I would love that."

With a lot more care then he used with Námo, Mairon embraced the Valië. While he did, Marta's mismatched eyes met Námo's. The look in them made the Vala decide to stop walking around corners in Mandos for a while, and instead just think himself places.

That cat looked _pissed_.

But as soon as Mairon turned back to her, that expression disappeared so quickly, Námo almost believed he'd imagined it. In its place, Marta rubbed her head against Mairon's hand when it went to pet her.

"You're a very pretty girl, Marta. Say thank you to Lady Vairë for her gift!"

The cat meowed at Vairë, before continuing to rub against Mairon, purring. She ignored Námo, which the Valar was grateful for.

Vairë smiled.

"You are very welcome, Lady Marta. Look after it, won't you?"

The cat ignored that. Námo couldn't help thinking this gift, as happy as it made Mairon, wouldn't be lasting long if Marta had her way.

That cat was something else…

* * *

"How's Mairon doing now he has that cat?"

Námo nodded.

"He's doing better. Having her around has helped him tremendously. She gives him self-confidence, and acts as a buffer between him and the world."

"I understand you aren't so impressed with her?"

Námo glared.

"Where did you hear that?"

Manwë grinned.

"Varda may have mentioned something of the sort."

"It's not that I'm not impressed with her. It's that she doesn't like me for some reason. Makes things…interesting."

Manwë nodded.

"Varda doesn't like cats. I can't say I'm particularly fond of them either. I prefer birds. I don't know if I could let a cat into my home like you have."

"It's what Mairon needs."

"Still. I'm not sure I could do it."

"If one of your children needed it, you would."

Manwë just shrugged. An awkward silence descended on them, eventually broken by Námo.

"Are you any closer to figuring out who attacked them? I haven't found anything."

Manwë shook his head.

"Not yet, but we will. This behaviour can't be let go."

"Not to mention it could happen again to anyone."

Manwë nodded.

"That too. It's important we get to the root of this problem for multiple reasons."

"And sooner rather than later."

Námo's gaze was distant. Coming back to himself, he sighed.

"I need your help, Manwë. It's no good hoping the answer will magically appear in your path. I need solid help. From all of you. What happened threatens the very fabric of what we've built here. We can't let this go on."

Manwë agreed.

"And we won't. But no one's talking, and it's rather difficult to find out anything when that's the case. I'm working on it."

"Work harder. It's been months. There must be something out there, someone who knows something. We just need to find them."

"I've been looking into it." Manwë was starting to feel annoyed. "Are you questioning my methods?"

Námo's expression didn't change.

"Just keep looking. Two of my children were hurt by parties unknown with no provocation. I am fed up having to deal with the fallout of things that shouldn't happen to begin with."

Manwë nodded.

"I understand. We will get to the bottom of this, Námo."

"I need answers now, Manwë. Not whenever they happen to turn up. Now. How long until more drastic things happen? How long until, having got away with it once, they try something worse? How long will it take 'to get to the bottom of this'?"

Manwë had no answer for that.

* * *

**END OF PART ONE**

* * *

**So, there is much more of this coming, Four Parts altogether so far (I hope this won't turn into five parts...), but Part Four is only three chapters existing so far, and Part Two isn't quite ready for posting yet. It's being worked on as much as Real Life permits. I aim to have it out early in the New Year.**

**I also want to acknowledge Coffeeranger as being invaluable in the whole process of creating these stories. So many ideas have come from chatting with them!**

**Thank you for all the support with Part One, and rest assured there will be more soon!**


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